by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney
The ward quaked under the force of the magical explosion. The marble cracked and shattered under them, and a rain of jagged shrapnel rained down. The shock wave propagated through the ward and the floor, rebounding back when it hit the other side of the circle. The rebound buckled the floor, disrupting the circle. The ward fell with a magical backwash that ripped through Ivan. It pulled his magic, unraveling the spell that kept the magical storage in place. Everything dropped out of the magic to the floor in the same instant the bisytsia winked out of their plane. With the ward down, she was pulled back to her own realm.
Ivan fell onto Wolf, who had reverted to his wolf form and lay in a limp heap. Ivan threw himself to the side, worried he’d do further damage. He landed on his back on a jumbled pile of marble shards. They stabbed at him through the gaps in his armor. The explosion had burned through his magical shielding. Dammit.
An infuriated shriek shook Ivan into awareness. The firebird dove down to sit next to Wolf. She nudged his unconscious form, trying to get him to respond. Wolf remained limp.
Anger rose, replacing the emptiness of shock. Wolf would not die in vain. He had fought valiantly, and his sacrifice gave Ivan the chance he needed to take out Koschei. Ivan could still free Wolf’s mate and kill Koschei.
Ivan rose, sword loose and ready in his hand. He might not have magical shielding, but he still had his own training and protections, and he had work to do.
Beyond the firebird, Vasalisa stood on her own, swaying unsteadily without Koschei’s magic holding her upright. The sight of her, the injuries still livid against her pale skin, stoked Ivan’s fury.
Koschei himself stared in blank astonishment at the wreckage of his ward.
Ivan gathered himself. While the sorcerer still stared at the destruction, Ivan launched himself up the steps.
Koschei turned his head, meeting Ivan’s eyes. He raised a hand, and a wave of magic smashed into Ivan, hitting the runes and reverberating through his bones.
The impact stopped his charge, knocking him back a step. Ivan shook his head to clear it, then gritted his teeth. The repulsion spell was as strong as any he’d encountered, but he knew how to deal with this.
Leading with his blade, he sliced through the magic, the runes on the blade creating a fissure in the spell. He slid his body into the gap and moved forward. It was slower, but he didn’t care about that. He cared about reaching that bastard sorcerer.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Vasalisa moving slowly, working around so she was out of Koschei’s immediate reach. Smart. Remove herself as a hostage and Ivan could focus on taking Koschei out.
Koschei evidently came to the same conclusion, and he reached out with magic to pull Vasalisa back. Ivan couldn’t let that happen.
Ivan gathered his magic and hurled a handful of ice knives at Koschei. Slowed by the repulsion spell, they wouldn’t do any real damage, but he needed to distract him from Vasalisa.
To his surprise, the ice knives flew through the repulsion spell without slowing. They hit their targets, a line of four ice shards ranging from Koschei’s left thigh across his torso to his right shoulder.
Koschei looked down at the blades, then at Ivan.
“Ice. I should have known.” Deathless frowned, reaching up to pull the shards out. He dropped them to the floor.
Ivan’s brain clicked through the implications, and he quickly formed a wedge of frost ahead of him. It pushed through the magic easily, opening a path to the sorcerer.
Koschei was vulnerable to ice magic. Ivan smiled.
One step, two, and he was even with Koschei.
A blade appeared in Koschei’s hand. The sabre was long, with a distinct shallow curve and narrow blade.
Ivan catalogued Koschei’s stance and the balance of the sabre. His smile widened. That was a blade for slashing, built for speed and maneuverability, very accurate, but without the power and thrust of the straight blade.
Koschei’s arrogance would drive his assumptions about Ivan’s skill, and Ivan could use that. The sorcerer stood, waiting for Ivan to charge him.
Ivan gathered himself and launched, but he didn’t charge directly at Koschei. Instead, he spun aside and around, keeping at the edge of his sword’s reach. The tip sliced along Koschei’s side, under his arm and around his back, and Ivan wheeled, dragging the blade up Koschei’s back. He leaped out of range as Koschei whirled to face him.
Koschei’s face distorted into an infuriated snarl. He waved his left hand across his body. The bleeding stopped.
Shit.
“You can’t kill me. I’ll just keep healing. Even if you somehow outlast my ability to heal myself, you still can’t kill me. I cannot die.” Koschei lunged on the last word, slashing at Ivan’s belly.
Ivan danced back, staying out of range. Because of the curve, Koschei’s blade had shorter range than Ivan’s straight sword. Ivan had no intention of closing that distance.
“Arrogant ass,” Ivan chided. “Everything can be killed. It’s just a question of finding your weakness.”
Koschei laughed, advancing. “Stupid fae. You keep thinking that while I bleed you out. You’re a strong one. You’ll make a lovely addition to my collection.”
Ivan’s blade deflected a slash, sliding along the curve of the sabre. The move left his side unguarded, and Koschei reversed his grip, slicing across Ivan’s ribs.
Ivan grunted at the impact, but his armor held.
He didn’t fight the momentum, instead swinging it around so the sword came up at an angle. He slashed across Koschei’s thigh, laying open the muscle. He shot magic down the blade, pushing ice into the wound.
Koschei howled, stumbling back. This time the wound was slower to heal. Not as much bleeding because of the ice, but it took longer to close.
Ivan moved in, pushing more magic into the sword. He’d cut the sorcerer into pieces. It wouldn’t matter if he was dead if he was in pieces.
Magic slammed into the center of his chest. His runes flared blue under his armor and his heart stuttered. His legs kept moving, his arms coming down to complete the move he’d begun.
Ivan’s sword went right through the sorcerer’s leg, severing it. Metal hit stone as the sword met the floor, and the impact sang through his numbed arms. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the sorcerer.
Pain bloomed under his skin, but he ignored it. He’d dealt with pain before. He needed to muscle through. He looked up, caught sight of Vasalisa. Beautiful, still fragile from the last round of torture, she wavered a bit on her feet, but she held a marble fragment in her hand.
Ivan lurched to the side, giving her a clear shot, and Vasalisa hurled the marble like a missile at Koschei.
Ivan forced his body back under his control, lifting the blade and turning to face his foe. Vasalisa had caught him in the head, and a thin trickle of blood ran down the side of Koschei’s face.
Koschei turned his head, pinning Vasalisa with a look. He’d healed the gash in his leg and the lower part of his leg was already reattaching. “You will regret that, my dear.”
“No, I won’t,” she answered with ringing certainty.
Ivan shook off the last of the magic hit. The sorcerer healed faster than Ivan was doing damage. He needed to be faster.
Gritting his teeth, he moved. He lifted his blade, swinging. From his position on the floor, all Koschei could do was block the strike. The curved blade came up to deflect Ivan’s sword, and at the last second, Ivan turned his blade and flipped the tip of his sword up. It was a move that required immense strength and control, one he’d practiced hundreds of thousands of times.
The tip of Ivan’s sword caught the point of Koschei’s chin, and the impact of bone on steel reverberated up Ivan’s arm. The blade kept going, slicing up through the sorcerer’s mouth and out through this nose. If Ivan had been a half step closer, he would have opened Koschei’s skull completely. Dammit.
Magic hit him again, this time in his abdomen, and at the same time Koschei swept his sabre back,
slicing across the seam in his armor at the knee.
Ivan’s knee buckled even as the undergarments minimized the damage. His runes flared wildly on his skin. Koschei’s magic tore through him like claws, ripping organs and tissues. Ivan tasted blood.
Another hit of magic drove him backward and down. The backs of his legs hit something hard, and he went down.
Fighting through the pain, he rolled to his knees, sword in hand. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. Koschei’s magic was doing internal damage.
He pushed himself up, lifting his head.
Vasalisa hurled chunks of marble and stone at Koschei, pelting him in an unending string of debris.
Koschei waved a hand in her direction, and she flew back, smashing into a marble column. She crumpled into a heap at the base.
Red flooded Ivan’s head.
Sound filled the room, huge and terrifying. The room shook, dust rained down around him. Distantly he realized the sound came from him. He didn’t care.
Ivan charged, already swinging his sword. As he leapt, magic hit him again, twisting his insides and tearing through them in jagged lashes of pain. He didn’t care.
Koschei’s leg was reattached, almost completely healed, but instead of standing, he rolled back.
Ivan leaped, sword raised. He put everything he had into the blow. He needed to take Koschei’s head. The leading edge of his sword met Koschei’s neck. Fierce satisfaction drowned the pain in his body.
Koschei pulled his legs in and kicked out, planting his feet in Ivan’s belly. Magic smashed through the contact, and Koschei twisted.
It was enough. Ivan flew sideways, crashing into the stone throne. He heard his ribs break, but he didn’t notice the pain. The magic shredded him, clawing from the inside out. His muscles peeled apart, tendons popping and tearing. His legs gave out completely, the muscles useless lumps of disconnected tissue.
Ivan felt the blood streaming from his nose, over his cheek. Gods-dammit.
He blinked, trying to make his lungs work. They didn’t want to cooperate.
Koschei rose, the wound at his throat healing, skin knitting together so that nothing but the line of blood remained.
Odin help him, he’d failed. He was done. He couldn’t get up, he could barely hold his sword. There was nothing he could do without the jewel in the chest, no way to defeat the sorcerer.
Koschei stopped a few steps from him, looking down at him.
“You cost me my bisytsia. You wrecked my ward and my throne room. Who are you?”
Ivan spat a mouthful of blood. It barely cleared his own face.
“That’s not an answer. No matter. I need someone to replace the bisytsia. If you agree to submit to me, I’ll spare your life.”
Ivan struggled through the haze of pain. “No.”
“Oh, now, you don’t know what I’m offering. I need a willing sacrifice, but in return you will be immortal, incredibly hard to kill, and incredibly powerful. Of course, you’ll be bound to me, but that’s only to be expected, isn’t it?”
“Fuck you.”
“Rude,” Koschei tutted. He studied the nails on one hand. “What if I offered you the bird? That’s why you came, isn’t it? If I free the bird, you agree to be my deathmage slave.”
Deathmage slave. Odin and Freya. An abomination among abominations. The deathmage binding was an eternal torment of pain. In addition to the physical pain of the binding, a deathmage slave was no more than a puppet for evil. Koschei would gain all of his knowledge, all of his magic, and Ivan would be little more than a shell, aware of what he was doing, but unable to control himself as he was used in any way the sorcerer wished.
He would be unable to warn his family, unable to free Vasalisa. All for nothing. His life was not worth the price.
“No,” Ivan gritted.
Vasalisa stirred, her arms moving restlessly. She was coming around.
Koschei followed his gaze. They both watched her as she leaned back on the column, broken but not dead.
“You like her,” Koschei commented. “What if I let you rut her? Not really my thing, but it might be fun for you. Actually, it might be entertaining. She’d be so horrified to have a deathmage slave in her body.”
Nausea roiled and rage erupted. It purged the pain, clearing his mind.
No. Whatever it took, he would not have Vasalisa like that. He had only one bargaining chip. With cold determination, he met Koschei’s eyes.
“No. Not the bird. The princess.”
“Excuse me?”
“Free the princess. Return to her people without any further damage or harm, her magic intact, without any additional interference on your part.”
“Ivan! No!” Vasalisa’s objection was fast and clear. Ivan ignored her.
Surprise was followed closely by sly calculation on Koschei’s face. “She knows you. How interesting. You will be my deathmage slave in exchange for me returning the princess to her court?”
“Without further damage or harm, and with her magic intact.”
Was it his imagination, or was it easier to breathe? Was the pain less?
“Don’t do this Ivan,” Vasalisa pleaded. She was struggling to rise. When she couldn’t, she began dragging herself across the debris toward them.
Ivan shuddered, turning his gaze away. He couldn’t watch her crawl.
Koschei grinned like a child given a sweet. “Swear it.”
“You first.”
“Fine. If you become my deathmage slave, I will return the princess—”
“Vasalisa of the Rus,” Ivan interrupted. He didn’t want Koschei squirming out of this.
“Vasalisa of the Rus. She will suffer no further damage or harm and her magic will be intact.”
“And you will free her before we begin the transformation.”
“Yes, yes,” Koschei agreed, waving a hand.
Chapter Eleven
‡
Ivan dropped his head. “I, Ivan Frostbreather, will become your willing sacrifice in the creation of a deathmage slave, in exchange for you fulfilling your vow regarding Vasalisa of the Rus.”
The geas snapped into place. Ivan felt it constrict around him. The deal was done.
Koschei laughed, high-pitched and giggly, as Vasalisa reached Ivan.
She reached a hand out to touch his face, but he turned away. He didn’t deserve her touch. He’d failed them all. Wolf was dead, Vasalisa was maimed, and the firebird would never be free. But at least Vasalisa would return to her people. It was the only chance the fae had.
“Lovely,” Koschei smiled. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Vasalisa dropped her hand, laying it instead on Ivan’s.
Ivan swallowed. His heart squeezed. So close, but he would never have her.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was safe, that she could warn the fae.
Koschei stood over them, his sabre hanging loosely at his side.
“Touching, but it’s time for you to go, Princess.”
“Ivan,” she said softly. Tears tracked down her cheeks.
Ivan forced a smile. “Go. You’ll have work to do.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, you will,” Koschei barked. “I want to start, so you have to leave.”
Vasalisa shook her head. “No, Koschei.”
“Very well.” In a lightning fast move, Koschei flicked the sabre across Ivan’s face, slicing a bloody gash along his jaw.
Pain seared through him. His eyes watered and his fingers twitched.
The internal pain was nearly gone, the runes in his skin healing the damage. It didn’t matter. Soon enough, everything would be pain. But there was no reason Vasalisa needed to stay.
“Go,” Ivan told her again. “You aren’t doing anyone any good here.”
She reeled back as if he’d slapped her. Hurt filled her eyes and she snatched her hand away. Slowly, she backed away. She stopped at the edge of the first step down from the dais.
“I thoug
ht there was something.”
He couldn’t leave it like that. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he knew his heart was in them. This was the last time he’d see her face and know her.
“Everything,” he said softly. “This way you live, you return to your court. This way you have a chance. What do you have without it?”
“Oh, I know this one!” Koschei’s manic giggle cut across the tension. “Nothing! Of course, you won’t win in any case, but this will be more fun.”
Anger kindled in Vasalisa’s eyes. It gave him hope.
Silence stretched, and Vasalisa nodded. “I’ll go. But this isn’t over.”
Koschei waved at her dismissively.
An enraged shriek filled the room. Ivan winced, the high-pitched, rough sound piercing his eardrums and stabbing into his brain.
Even before he saw her, he knew it was the firebird, and she was angry. The rising streak of gold caught his light, and he blinked. The firebird was carrying the iron chest. He didn’t know how she could lift the heavy box, but she had it, and she was flying directly at Koschei.
Ivan gritted his teeth against the noise, and pain speared through his face. He’d forgotten about his jaw.
Koschei turned, but the motion seemed slow to Ivan.
The bird shrieked again, then opened her talons. The iron box dropped, plummeting toward Koschei’s skull.
Koschei slashed upwards with the sabre, slicing easily through the iron. The two halves of the box split over his head, one flying over Ivan to crash into the rubble, the other hurtling toward Vasalisa.
Ivan had a horrified moment to see the realization in Vasalisa’s eyes as the iron flew at her. She tried to dodge, but wasn’t fast enough. The corner of the chest caught her in the shoulder and spun her around. She crashed to the floor.
The chest tilted and spun, dropping with shattering force at the base of the steps.
The firebird dove at Koschei’s head, a whirling mass of feathers and light. Koschei reversed the sabre and used the heavy hilt to hit the bird. The blow sent her careening back, but she recovered and started a new attack.