“Tell us something of these experiments,” Alina asks.
The man sighs, stretching out in his chair. “The Kazakhs had strange objectives; they were obsessed with the idea of death. They assembled witches here from everywhere, but above all they needed men. The nearby cities were soon deserted until they reached Rubishzne. They asked us,” he smiles, “with the gentility of their weapons, to allow them access to the corpses in the city cemetery, and I gave it to them. Anyway, it was soon clear they needed living bodies. The village grew less populous, people vanished between the evening and the morning. I equipped a small army and we came her to serve them justice, but sadly we lost.
“I was wounded very seriously, and so I leapt from the battlefield to the laboratory table. For days, four witches subjected me to every sort of spell while I agonized in the throes of death. They injected me with all kinds of chemical concoctions, like all the others before me who suffered the same treatment. Unfortunately, the procedure didn’t work well; you’ve already seen the results of those experiments. One of those four witches, the kindest,” he caresses Yaga’s cheek, “took pity and let me drift toward death. The scientists buried me, together with a hundred other failures. But the witch came searching because she knew I still held on to a glimmer of life. She nursed me and hid me until I could regain my strength. Then came the bombings and the horrors that followed. Over the long years of this forced exile I read a lot and I imagined the rest. Those horrible beings are my ex-countrymen, my kin and my friends. They will never grow old, they have almost no need for food, except in very small quantities. I think they too wish for death; now it would be an act of charity to grant them it.”
“The books,” Gabriela presses him.
“Yaga, bring them out for her.” The witch squirms to her feet and walks toward a shelf partially obscured by a rose curtain. “Here they are,” Ramai says while the woman places a few dusty volumes on the ground. “Go ahead and take them; by now I know them by heart.”
“This is it? Maike is dead, ripped apart by those creatures, for this handful of books?” Gabriela grumbles, but the man shrugs his shoulders.
“I want guarantees from the Captain of your airship. I want to be dropped off on English soil.”
“I believe,” Gabriela says, “you’re behind the times. The English lost the last war.”
“But that doesn’t take anything away,” Kenneth adds. “We’re still strong—a free nation and on the cutting edge. You’ll be welcomed with full honors in our land.”
“Allport! That’s enough now!” Gabriela hisses.
“I won’t accept being flown to the Palatinate. If you don’t like my conditions, you can do as you please on the other side of that door,” he says pointing lazily. “You will soon have plenty of company.”
“I’ll speak to the Captain about it, she will decide. I need to contact her now; otherwise we’ll never get out of here. Yaga, Alina, I need you. There’s too much earth here, we’re deep down. ”
Alina shudders at the thought of joining with the other two. Gabriela is little more than a stranger and Yaga is such an odd woman, she doesn’t even seem like one of them anymore.
“May I, Master?” the witch pipes kneeling toward Ramai, who agrees.
Gabriela looks at Alina, staring her in the eye. One doesn’t need telepathy to realize she’s desperately asking her for help. She’s as frightened as her, but they need to connect with the other witches.
They form a triangle as Alina takes Gabriela’s sweaty hand and then Yaga’s icy one. They don’t need to take off their shoes, there’s so much earth all around them it seems she can feel it on her skin. She looks up, briefly exchanging glances with Gabriela’s glowering irises and with Yaga’s, so incredibly green.
She begins to regulate her breath, channeling the rock’s powerful energy through her feet. This place is so pregnant with magnetism that she struggles to control the surges rising up her legs.
When the energy reaches her womb, it condense into a heavy mallet which pounds inside her. She bears the pain and continues to breath, trying to cushion the strength of the pulses running through her, but the dragon awakens after a few violent shocks. He rouses imperiously, shaking off his slumber. Alina isn’t ready, she hasn’t even heated up her heart yet, but the beast is impatient, summoned by the monstrous energy of the place. Alina feels a hot flash explode from her uterus and rise from her belly until it ignites her heart. She hiccups and the dragon looks mockingly into her eyes. The center of her chest fills with heat, as if someone opened up an oven in her stomach. The beast shouts fiercely, vomiting fire and lava, and Alina lets a silent wheeze escape her lips. She feels the fire flow freely through her veins out to her shoulders and arms until it unites with that of the two other witches.
On her left, Gabriela is permeated by a tiger of embers whose red color is reflected in the eyes and the claws of the deadly predator. On her right, Yaga is in an abyss of shadows out of which an infernal heat flows. In the darkness of her heart, Alina can make out a vaguely human semblance with fiery hair and luminous, white skin. The strange witch is possessed by a porcelain doll with delicate features and eyes like two wells, radiating a scorching heart. Alina wavers on the precipice and tries to pull back her consciousness so as not to be incinerated.
She feels Gabriela’s awareness wander through the room until it finds a path which, in the dimensions gathered around reality, conducts it to ground level. Alina hazily participates in this telepathic connection, although her only job is to tend the flames, but she instinctively perceives Gabriela’s sensations. She’s found Alexa and there’s something troubling her. An imminent danger. She hears Hansi scream as if through a wall of cotton and she gets a jolt.
Gabriela suddenly breaks the connection and Alina lets go of the two witches’ hands. She’d like to tear the clothes from her back, her skin burns and her throat is dry. Both of her companions have shining black eyes, like two steeds after a long run.
“What’s going on?” Ramai asks.
“Enemy ships have arrived, they’re lining up to attack. The Captain is already onboard while the rest of the crew waits below for us, to clear our path.”
“Who are these enemies?” Ramai asks.
“I don’t know,” Gabriela says. “They’re strangers to everyone, I think they come from very far away, perhaps from across the Atlantic Ocean, but no one knows what they want. They have, however, already attacked our vessels, without any provocation. We need to go, now.”
Kenneth looks at Alina with homicidal fury in his eyes. She tries to signal with her hands to be patient. This is not the time to start playing war.
“On English soil?” Ramai asks again.
“You shall be a guest aboard the East Wind until we find a port which is to your liking,” Gabriela answers.
“A guest? Do I have your Captain's word?”
“Of course,” Gabriela nods vigorously, but Alina notices a drop of sweat at her temple and Yaga’s questioning gaze. All three of them were joined together, but she didn’t catch this exchange. Gabriela is improvising, a dangerous game, but the two survivors seem satisfied and pack up their few things in two cowhide bags both of which the man takes on his back.
They head through the door, and it’s soon clear why Yaga needs both hands free: she strikes her staff against the ground every few steps, producing a rumble that makes their bones quake. They’ve taken out their weapons, but fortunately they don’t see a soul. Alina is still so agitated by the earlier spell that her hands are shaking like branches in a storm. Bang after bang, they reach the stairs and start to climb up to higher levels. Yaga beats the staff on every step, but the blue light dims and each blow is feebler than the last.
Having reached the second basement level the thuds are almost inaudible. Yaga stops on the landing, beating the club against the ground with a fast rhythm.
“Strangers,” she says, “this is the limit of my magic. Beyond this point I can no longer promise to keep the
dead away.”
Gabriela puts a hand to the side of her head, her eyes still dark. “I think they’re up there now. There are some complications.” Confirming her words they hear muted thunder coming from outside, cannon and explosions.
“They’re waiting for us in the hallway, with weapons raised,” Gabriela closes her eyelids again. “I told them we’re on our way. We just have to make it up one more floor.”
Alina cranes her head up the stairwell, but there’s only darkness on the floor above. Higher up they glimpse lights, the rescue party’s lamps.
“Hansi!” she whispers.
“Hey!” they hear from above, then some other muffled sounds.
“Silence, fool!” Gabriela orders her.
“Don’t worry, they know full well we are here,” Ramai explains. “They have an incredibly keen sense of smell. Better that it’s clear to your allies we’re climbing up to avoid them shooting at the wrong targets.”
The cannon-fire outside grows in intensity. The first shots collide with the ground, causing plaster to fall from the ceiling.
“Ready to run for it?” Gabriela asks. The biggest problems might be Ramai, weighed down by his bags, and Kenneth Allport, who needs to carry the books in one hand, while the other grips the revolver. Alina draws both her weapons, but Gabriela quickly stops her. “You, Santuini, guard the rear. Allport first, then me and then you two.”
Alina scrunches up her lips, but doesn’t answer back. Once again she’s left with the short straw.
She spins round to face the darkness behind them while Kenneth starts to move upward. Perhaps she should wake up the dragon. Only she fears she won’t be able to maintain the spell and climb the stairs at the same time. She’d risk ending up bereft of strength before she reaches the top. And at that point she’d be finished. She squeezes her fists around the bottom half of her pistols. Right as Ramai embarks on the staircase, at the end of the corridor she can make out some rapid movements in spurts, accompanied by that irritating drone. Alina fires into the air, the spark lighting up at least fifty voracious little heads, suddenly emerging at full speed from the blackness. She attacks the steps two at a time while above her the weapons start blasting their charges, which resound through the tight stairwell. Alina fires behind her without looking. The monstrous beings pour out of the first level corridor. Yaga swings her staff speaking a spell with a shrill unnatural voice, but by now the monsters don’t seem to care about her presence. They limit themselves to avoiding her. Alina continues to climb up while the beings’ rapacious hands try to grab at her boots. She shoots like mad, the bullets whistling and bouncing off the walls.
She has one flight left, but the emaciated creatures are all around by the hundred.
“Ali!”
With one final effort she jumps on the head of one of them and launches herself upward, throwing down her pistols. A friendly hand stretches out from the railing and she barely manages to catch it. Hansi lets out a scream because of the tug on his shoulder but he doesn’t let her go. He braces his knees again the wall and lifts her beyond the doorway as the witch Davidna unloads the clip of her machine gun into the stairwell.
“I was afraid I’d never see you again,” Hansi says softly, drawing her into him. Alina squeezes against his chest and a sob of relief escapes her, while she buries her face in his neck.
“Get out of here!” Davidna shouts, throwing a grenade down the stairs.
Hansi takes her by the hand and they set off running across the narrow hallway. In front of them their companions’ silhouettes are sketched out against the light from the door, in a confusion of acrid smoke, blasts and screams. They exit through the bare hinges. The airship East Wind is lit up by the flare of the prow’s cannon barraging an unknown vessel a little past the containment ditch.
“Quickly,” Davidna keeps barking, the black barrel, still hot, aimed toward their back.
They reassemble in the area in front of the building, ready for a final scramble toward the ladder, when they hear the whistling of a bomb rapidly closing in on them. Alina tugs Hansi’s hand, and pulls him to the side of the path and the world disintegrates into a jumble of heat and smoke. She feels the ground disappear beneath her feet and then bash violently against her arms and knees. A stabbing pain arches her back, sounds reach her muffled, as if she dunked her head underwater. She’d like to lift her head, but it feels as though a giant’s hand is keeping her pressed against the dry ground. The taste of blood fills her mouth and nose. A hand rattles her shoulder. Her name reaches her through an ocean of suffering.
“Alina!”
She manages to barely turn her head, enough to catch sight of Kenneth’s face watching her. The man passes an arm under her armpits and lifts her like she’s a broken toy.
Alina rolls her eyes around, she can’t manage to get the world in focus. “Hansi,” she mumbles, rattled by the sailor’s running. After an eternity of painful bumping around, he places her on the ground, trying to get her to sit up.
“Alina,” he grabs her head between his hands and looks straight into her eyes, “wake up. Try to answer me.”
He takes her hand and rests it on a taught rope. “This is the ladder, do you feel it? I need to go fetch the books. You two, help her climb up instead of standing there like two barn owls.”
He lets go of her head, and she struggles to keep it upright. She manages however to pull into focus the faces of the witch Yaga and her eccentric escort, who are staring at her.
She pushes off her legs until she lifts herself to her feet. The world spins around her, but she somehow manages to support herself. The explosions come one after another, while the machine gun continues to sound above them.
“I need to find Hansi,” she mutters. She tries to move a step forward, but her legs give way again.
“Courage, young witch,” the man spurs her on, but he quickly starts climbing, without worrying about helping her. Silently, Yaga follows him. Alina sees them take off toward the sky, unable to interfere in anyway. If those two strangers seize control of the airship, they won’t bother to wait for them or come to their aid, they’ll leave them there to die under the shells, or worse, be devoured by those foul little monsters.
Kenneth is an idiot. How can he be so slow to work things out and realize where the real danger lies? The two witches up there are busy returning fire, they can’t deal with the couple.
See tries to make out some movement in the fog, but there’s no trace of her friend. With a tremulous hand, she grabs the rope above her and tries to close her fist. She fits the point of her shoe onto the first rung and holds onto the ladder with all her might. A cry escapes her, but she pays no attention to the pain and pulls with her legs. One step after another, her head spins with vertigo. She see Yaga’s bare feet at the top agilely disappearing behind the hull. She grits her teeth and furiously undertakes the climb, the wind hitting her like a cloth hung out to dry.
After forty-two rungs of pangs and stabs, she finally manages to put her knee on the plane of the foredeck. She drags herself to her feet and dives toward the cabinet where the Cerriwdens’ keep their weapons. The inside is empty apart from an old, sawed-off arquebus. Her fingers shaking with uncontrollable tremors, Alina bends over and loads two grapeshot rounds into the holes. Just two bullets, with a weapon that might not even work. With a brief snap, she closes the gun and points it ahead of her.
She ascends the wooden ramp, putting her soles down delicately, so as not to make noise. The command bridge’s windows are shattered and it’s swept by the wind. Draped over the wheel, immobile, is the witch Julya, who had stayed on board. On the floorboards, Jillian Cerriwden lies in a pool of blood, collapsed like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Bent over her body, Ramai watches her, with Yaga right behind him.
“Bastards!” Alina shouts, pointing the gun’s shaft at the man’s head.
Yaga slithers quickly and inserts herself between her and Ramai, shielding him with her body.
�
�Sister, get out of my way,” Alina growls. “I have nothing against you; it’s just that son of a whore I want to blow away. Someone who makes a witch his slave! Who kills those who came to save him!”
Ramai rises to his feet and hugs Yaga from behind, jutting his head over her white coif.
“Wait, young Alina. Don’t jump to erroneous conclusions.”
“I shoot first, then draw conclusions. Raise those hands, you wretch, and step away from her.”
“This witch was already wounded when we arrived. A bullet or a shard of glass. The other is dead.”
“You think you can fool me that easily?”
“Think, little one. I could have cut the ladder and let you plummet. Lower the weapon.”
The gun barrel starts to shake as if it were rustled by the wind. Alina tries to keep it steady, but her hands refuse to obey her.
“I… I…” she stammers.
“This one is still alive. Put down your weapon and help me tend to her. She’ll tell you herself how it happened.”
His slave’s eyes are already black, the witch is calling forth her magic. Either she shoots now or it will be futile, in these conditions she can’t stand up against Yaga’s demon, the wicked doll.
Alina lowers her scope a few degrees and comes closer to Jillian. “Take a step back,” she orders.
She kneels down next to the Captain. Her corset is drenched in blood and has two holes burned in its chest. She places a hand over her heart and feels a faint beating. The injured witch opens her eyes and a gasp parts her lips.
Alina keeps the rifle aimed at the two strangers and leans her ear against Cerriwden’s mouth.
The Codex of the Witch: Fantasy Novel Page 15