Rise of the Firebird (50 page)

Vasilli felt the blood lust rushing through him in anticipation for the fight. He had a hundred men with him and he was confident he’d take the Álfr compound with ease.

“I have a gift for you, my son,” Yanka had approached him the previous day. “My scrying has finally paid off and I’ve found the Álfr filth here in Russia.”

“And why would I see that as a gift? The Álfr stick to themselves. They aren’t going to care if the whole world burns. They won’t interfere with our plans,” Vasilli replied, his attention focussed on an email he had received about the chaos in New Orleans.

“If you kill them, take their magic, then you will have enough power to be a Player on the board and not a common Power,” Yanka said, her fingers combing through his black hair.

“What do they have that you want so badly?” he sighed. He knew Yanka well enough to know that everything she did served a purpose, and that purpose was her own.

“Consider it to be three fold results. You get to become a Player. I get access to their secrets and revenge on them from keeping all of Ilya’s writings there. They have libraries holding knowledge of magic that we’ve never even dreamt about. We can build gates to move between this plane and into Skazki but they know how to cross to whole new worlds. They came here from Álfheim! Could you imagine what we could do with such magic?”

“There really is no limit to your ambition, Mother. Very well, I’ll do this for you.”

“Thank you, my son!” she kissed him happily. “Now, go and burn them all.”

Vasilli was now standing in a freezing cold forest in artic Russia. Yanka had opened a gate and sent him through. He hadn’t asked where he was going; he only needed to know what to do.

Unease was wriggling in the back of his mind and it was growing more irksome as time passed. He’d always accepted that he was a creature of his mother’s own devising, crafted as a deadly tool that she could wield against her enemies. She could pretend Anya didn’t bother her, but Vasilli wouldn’t be planning to commit mass slaughter to give him the power to be on the game board if she wasn’t feeling threatened.

Yanka needed backup to take on both Baba Yaga and Anya. Vasilli knew that Yanka and Baba Yaga would never kill each other. They would betray, torture, and imprison each other over and over, but to actually end life? No. They had too much history together to do anything that final, but they were both afraid of Anya.

Vasilli had to be strong enough to protect Yanka when Anya chose to attack. Hindsight was an awful tormentor. Had Vasilli been given the chance again, he would’ve fucked and killed Anya the day that they met. He’d been tempted to, but she had seemed such a drained and timid creature. If he’d known what less than a year of training would turn her into, he would’ve done things differently. He could’ve made her a pupil of his own, fashioned her the way Yanka had done him. If she hadn’t have been compliant, he would have enjoyed breaking her. Now the opportunity had gone from him forever.

Anya had to die. If it could be with his hands about her neck, while he was buried deep inside of her, then he would finally get satisfaction for all the trouble she’d caused him.

First, he needed the power to overcome her. His mind found its way back to the task at hand with a renewed enthusiasm. He gave the signal and within seconds the screams and slaughter began, his mouth smeared with the sweet tang of Álfr blood.

Alarms sounded throughout the Álfr compound in Alaska and Søren raced to Ruthann’s chambers, sword in hand. “Where is it?” he demanded as he pushed his way in. Ruthann stood in front of a large mirror, images flashing across it.

“It’s Svetilo,” Ruthann said, tears falling down his face. “Russia is burning.” There was smoke and blood on the mirror’s surface and Søren roared in fury.

“I tried to warn you!” he shouted at Ruthann as the Álfr lord crumpled to the ground.

“Take the
Sjau
with you. See if there is any survivors,” Ruthann managed, his voice cracked with grief. Søren fought the urge to strike him but he forced his anger to stay down. Lif was the first to find him and the rest of the
Sjau
were not far behind. All were armed and tense.

“What’s going on?” Brede asked.

“Yanka has attacked Svetilo. I have no idea what we are about to walk into. You know that the Álfr there are scholars not warriors. There will be many dead and I don’t know the size of the force that the Darkness took to their gates. You’re welcome to stay here-”

“Can you open the gate now?” interrupted Invar as he notched an arrow into his bow. “We are wasting time.”

“With pleasure,” Søren pulled out his sword and summoned the gate. “Kill all of the enemy. I want no survivors for this crime.”

They were met with the screams of the dying and the smoke of burning manuscripts. Søren cut off his emotions and set to the task at hand.

“Fan out. Look for survivors,” he commanded and the
Sjau
vanished.

Søren hurried through the halls, careful of where he put his feet. He’d visited the mountain stronghold many times when he needed solitude and now it had been reduced to a war zone.

Climbing under smouldering beams, Søren made it to the great library. Whatever Yanka had been after it would’ve been hidden in there. What he found robbed him of his senses. Piles of precious art and manuscripts had been looted or destroyed. The gentle Álfr that had tended the records had been tortured and murdered, their bodies twisted and bound into a horrific tree and set on fire.

“My lord, they are retreating through the forest!” Kari’s voice shouted from the corridor. Søren tore his eyes away from the grotesque monument and ran in pursuit. Brede, Lif and Esbjörn were covered in blood and fighting anything they managed to locate.

“They are trying get through a gate not far ahead,” Lif said as he sliced an
aga kurman
in half before it had a chance to take off Brede’s head with its deadly scythe. Søren let his rage take over him and he cut his way through the Darkness cohorts trying to scramble to safety. There was a shout and Søren caught sight of Vasilli as he stepped through the light and the gates shut. Søren swore in frustration and turned his attention back to killing all of those unlucky enough to be left behind.

Hours later, Søren contacted Ruthann,
Send healers and warriors to transport the wounded.

I will. Did you see who was responsible?

Vasilli was here. We killed as many as we could. They stole manuscripts and what they couldn’t carry they burned.

Bring the survivors and your Sjau home. We need you here.

I’m not coming back. I warned you of this, now it is up to you to be a leader and protect your own.
Betrayal and anger surged through Søren.

You are our Dauđi Dómr! Your duty is here.

My duty is to my brother and Anya. They’re our only hope to stop this now. I will not abandon them the way these Álfr were.
Søren broke the mental connection to Ruthann and fought off him trying to reconnect it.

“Lord Søren, what orders from Ruthann?” Lif asked.

“The same. You are to take the wounded home and raise any defences you can. I want watches set up along our perimeters and I want magic users to be taught basic battle magic.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m going to find my brother. Don’t follow me, Lif. Protect the Álfr as I have commanded. You are my second and you are now in command of the
Sjau.
”

“I will not fail you, Lord Søren. I only ask that when the final battle commences you allow us to join you in slaughtering Vasilli for what they have done here.”

“You have my word.” Before anyone could try to stop him, Søren opened a gate and disappeared.

In a mansion in Edinburgh, the chest that held the Game started to rock and shake. Baba Yaga felt the magic signature spike, white light streaming through the lid of the chest. She pulled it out, her gnarled hands shaking.

“Can’t be…can’t be…” she muttered as she lay the game onto the floor. The pieces rose out of the holdings of their own accord and snapped into their places on the board. Her and Yanka’s positions remained the same, but now instead of one set of sterling white pieces there was a set of red ones. They
always
started out white.

“Yanka, you silly bitch,” Baba Yaga gasped, “what have you made him do now?”

Across the worlds, Eldon Blaise woke with a cry of jolting agony. He fought with the heavy cloak about him and scrambled out on the wet ground.

“Eldon, what is it?” Anya asked sleepily as she sat up.

“I had a bad dream. Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” she whispered and climbed carefully out of her bedroll.

The others were all still asleep and she hopped through their line of bodies. Pain shot through his body again and grasped handfuls of earth to stop himself from crying out. Anya placed a hand on his shoulder and they were both sucked into a vision of bodies and blood and darkness. Power rose like a fetid cloud from Vasilli, his laughter cutting through the screams of the innocent.

“He’s…he’s…”Anya gasped as she let him go.

“A player. I told you I’m connected to the Game because I helped create it. But this…there hasn’t been evil like this allowed to play. Something has changed and I don’t know what it means. I can’t remember,” Eldon said desperately. “The first thing we need to do is get back to the real world. In the meantime, we need to keep this to ourselves.”

“I can’t keep it from Aramis.”

“Tell him about the Álfr but not that Vasilli is a player. I need to be back in the same world as the Game in order to confirm it. All hell is going to break loose if we don’t stop them, Anya. We are it.”

“I know. It’s almost dawn, let’s let the others sleep a little while longer and then we’ll get out of here.” Her green eyes were filled with anger but her voice was calm.

“It’s so typical that you are trying to comfort me right now, Anyanka. I should be the one comforting
you
. You’ll be the one they’ll make suffer for all eternity should we fail.”

“Are all the Welsh as morbid as you?”

“Only the clever ones.”

After a quick breakfast at dawn, Aleksandra summoned a gate and they crossed into the Sipoonkorpi National Park.

“You’re becoming exceptional,” Aramis complimented her. “I don’t think Søren or Ruthann could do it better.”

Aleksandra flushed with pride. “I didn’t know Søren had the gift.”

“Of course he does. How do you think he came to our aid so quickly in the Brooks Mountains?”

“I was knocked out,” Aleksandra reminded him.

“I am sorry I -”

“It’s fine, Aramis. I will have to ask Søren some questions next time I see him.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Anya said quietly as they walked down the muddy forest track. She had no way to confirm the vision she saw with Eldon that morning and now the words were sticking to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t tell Aramis and not be sure. She looked across at Eldon who shook his head slightly. No, they needed to wait.

“I’m sure he is well. Søren is the last person you need to worry about,” Aramis laughed.

“Yes, I know he is the fearsome
Dauđi Dómr
blah blah blah. I worry about him because I miss him.”

“You miss him?”

“Of course I do, he is my friend. I like him.”

“When we get to Helsinki tonight, we’ll call him and put your mind at ease.”

“I’d like that. Where is Kullervo?” she asked looking about. He was staring at the sky watching a helicopter with his mouth hanging open.

“Look cousin!” he exclaimed. “What is it?”

“A helicopter. Nothing to be worried about,” Anya took his arm and started him walking again.

“I’ve been away from the real world far too long,” Kullervo shook his head. “I am very much looking forward to exploring it.”

“We’ll make sure you have real world money before you go. I don’t want you to be stranded somewhere.”

Kullervo pulled a face at her, “I’m one of the greatest shaman that has ever lived, Anya. I’m not scared to be on my own.”

“I never said you were scared. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“I intend to get into much trouble,” Kullervo winked at her, “but I promise not to kill anyone unless they try to kill me first. I’ve been imprisoned alone for five hundred years and I want to be amongst people again.” At a campsite, they had showers before heading onto the Kuusijärvi Cafe. Aramis bought everyone coffee and lunch before they caught a bus into Helsinki.

“Do you think he is going to be okay on his own?” Yvan asked as Kullervo watched a group of giggling teenage girls at the back of the bus.

“He’ll be fine. He isn’t stupid just…enthusiastic.”

“That’s certainly a good word for him.” Yvan had his arm around her and she let the comfort of the real world envelope her. Here there was hot water and no Louhi.

“I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed tonight,” she sighed. “Peace and quiet and no Izrayl snoring. I wonder how I’ll cope.”

Twenty minutes later, they got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to the Strand Hilton hotel. Aramis paid for the rooms while Anya fished out the credit card Silvian had given her and showed Kullervo how to use it.

“I’m going to like this world,” he said as he pocketed it. Anya hesitated before hugging him tightly.

“Please take care of yourself. This world is in turmoil at the moment. Don’t draw attention to yourself. I don’t want Yanka or Vasilli hurting you because of me.”

“I would like to see them try. I know how to be careful when I’m forced to. We will see each other again cousin,” he patted her back and she let him go.

“Thank you for the sword of Ukko. It means a lot to me.”

“Not half as much as setting me free. I’ll see you soon.”

“You know where to find me. We will be in Helsinki for at least a week, but after that, I’m not sure.” Kullervo touched her hair affectionately before plucking out a few strands. “Ouch! Dick! Why would you do that?”

“So I can find you if I need you,” he smiled as he pocketed them.