Yarik perked up at that. Maybe he’d finally get that lead he’d been after.
“No,” Graybeard said. “They won’t make contact until they’ve reached the boat in Anapa, too much danger of the government intercepting.”
That was all he needed to hear. It made sense, the port of Anapa was one of the busiest in the western half of the Empire. If you were trying to sneak out, you couldn’t hope for a better place. Maybe the witches would have a way of tracking the girl, otherwise he didn’t know how they’d find her.
Yarik cocked the hammer of his pistol as quietly as he could, steeled himself, popped up, and shot the black stone. It exploded in a shower of gravel.
Igor put two rounds in one of the strangers before the rest dove for their rifles.
Yarik ducked behind the crates just before a fusillade of bullets tore into them. He hoped whatever was in the crates was heavy duty, hopefully steel.
There was a loud blast and streams of light poured into the room. The machine guns clattered on full auto, but they weren’t hitting the crates.
Yarik risked a glance and found the witch descending through a hole in the roof. Bullets ricocheted off an invisible barrier as she descended like an angel of death.
She waved a hand and a gust of wind picked up Jana and Karis and hurled them across the room like so much litter.
The man with the beard flung his rifle aside and leapt for one of the crates opposite Yarik.
Lightning cracked and a rebel exploded in a shower of sizzling gore.
The last man broke and ran. He might as well not have bothered. Nosorova made a twirling gesture and what looked like a mini tornado sprang to life around him. He clawed at his throat and after a moment went still.
Yarik was so distracted by all the magic that he almost forgot about the bearded man. Movement drew his eye back in time to see him emerge from the crate with a long-barreled, single-shot pistol. He leveled it at the witch.
Yarik fired an instant before him, blowing his brains all over the sacks behind him.
Nosorova landed and looked around at the mess. “Fine shot, Agent, though I assure you I was in no danger from a simple gun.”
“I had a bad feeling.” Yarik holstered his pistol. “He was awfully anxious to get his hands on that weapon—so anxious that he abandoned a machine gun to dig it out.”
He crossed the room and took the gun from the dead man’s hand. Yarik clicked the trigger to half cock, lowered the breech, and extracted a large-caliber cartridge. It felt cold in his hand. He looked closer at the bullet.
“Strange, there’s a skull carved into it.”
“Give me that.” Nosorova snatched the cartridge out of his hand. “A Death’s Head bullet. This must be what they used on Irmina. I shall have to apologize to the girl. I thought she was simply careless with her defenses.”
“What’s a Death’s Head bullet?” Igor asked.
“It’s a bullet infused with dark magic designed to pierce magical defenses,” Yarik said. He’d read about them years ago, but never thought to see one. “They’re better known as witch killers.”
“Correct, Agent. We’ve seen an increase in their use over the last year. We’ve tracked their point of origin to Anapa, but we haven’t yet figured out who exactly is smuggling the cursed things in.”
“Interesting.” Yarik scratched his cheek. “The target is heading to Anapa as we speak. Coincidence, you think?”
“I do not believe in coincidences, Agent.”
“Neither do I. I believe we have our next destination. Igor, how do you feel about flying?”
* * *
The train lurched and came to a full stop. Anya couldn’t wait to get out and move under her own power again. She’d never been this far from home, in fact she’d never been more than fifty miles from home before. The whole trip might have been fun if government agents weren’t hunting them. Nothing like having an entire Empire trying to turn you into a slave to suck the joy out of life.
“Back in the trunk,” Fedor said. “Our contact will be here soon.”
Anya grimaced. She really didn’t want to get crammed into that box. It felt like a coffin. “Do I have to?”
“Yes, now.”
Mom came over to help her. “Just one more time, kiska. Tonight we’ll be out on the Black Sea and the Empire nothing but a memory. Can you imagine it? Water as far as you can see, the smell, the sun, fish leaping into the air. Keep that image in mind and the trunk won’t be so bad.”
“Hurry, Sasha, someone’s coming.”
Mom lifted off the lid to the secret compartment and helped her into the cramped darkness. Anya tried to imagine the sea as she lay curled up in the dark, but failed. All she could think about was being found and shot.
She wished Fedor had let her keep one of the pistols, but he wasn’t confident in her ability to use it yet. It wasn’t her aim that was the problem, she’d gotten to be a pretty good shot, it was her willingness to shoot someone he questioned. Not that Anya blamed him. She wasn’t sure if she could do it either. Still, the cool metal in her hand would be welcome.
Time passed in the dark. Twice she was jostled and jolted. There was the rumble and vibration of a truck, then voices a couple times. Whenever she heard anyone she held her breath for fear that an inspector might hear her breathing.
The trunk shifted and settled with a final thump. More voices then the lid was lifted and Fedor’s bearded face appeared in the blinding light.
He held out his hand. “We’re safe, for the moment.”
Anya climbed eagerly out of the trunk. Even if it meant her life she swore she’d never get in the thing again. It looked like they’d ended up in a warehouse if the huge stacks of boxes were any indication. That made a certain amount of sense. Nothing odd about delivering furniture to a warehouse after all.
In addition to Mom and Fedor, another pair of men had joined them, twins by the looks, maybe ten years older than her. They’d both attempted beards, but the patchy tufts didn’t impress her. They both wore simple brown overalls that wouldn’t draw a second look on the street.
Her mother hurried over and wrapped Anya in a tight embrace. When she finally let go Anya asked, “So where’s the boat?”
“There’s a problem,” Fedor said. “Security agents are swarming the docks. Apparently they raided one of our safe houses in Dorcha and figured out our destination. They may not know exactly which ship we plan to take, but they clearly mean to stay between us and escape.”
“What are we going to do?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
“We have two options,” one of the twins said. “We can create a diversion on the side of the docks opposite the boat and try to sneak you aboard in the chaos, or we can leave Anapa, drive up the coast, and meet the boat out at sea. Both options have serious downsides, but I can’t think of anything else.”
Anya looked at each of them in turn, but found only crinkled brows and downcast eyes. If they weren’t confident, how was she supposed to feel?
A door crashed open and a young woman burst into the warehouse. “There’s a witch coming this way.”
“Is it a sweep or is she coming directly at us?” Fedor asked.
“Right at us, like an arrow. She’s holding something. I didn’t get a good look at it, but whatever it is, it’s leading her and two squads of city guards this way. You need to go.”
“Well, that settles it,” Fedor said. “We break for the docks. Contact the other cells and let them know we’re moving now. I want fire teams waiting for us at the primary rally point in fifteen minutes.”
“Captain Gustav’s expecting us and ready to go at a moment’s notice,” the second twin said.
“Good. We’re not going to have much of a lead on the Empire’s dogs.” Fedor strode toward the rear of the warehouse. “Let’s move.”
Anya never would have believed she’d feel grateful for the arrival of a witch, but the shock of it seemed to jar everyone out of their concerns
and pushed them to act. Maybe it would work out well and maybe not, but at least they were moving and that made her feel better. The trick was not to think about what they were moving towards.
* * *
Gulls cried on the bright blue day. Behind Yarik two hundred plus boats bobbed at their slips. They ranged from two-man skiffs to seventy-yard-long fishing trawlers. Three hundred city guardsmen in crisp white uniforms had searched every one of them yesterday and today and found nothing. Wherever the rebels were, it wasn’t here.
Maybe the show of force would scare them off. Part of him hoped it did and another part, the larger part, hoped they did something stupid and got caught so he could go home. He missed his wife and their little cabin. He missed getting home at night for a warm meal and sleeping in his own bed. If the Empire allowed it he’d retire tomorrow.
Yarik took a sidelong glance at Irmina. The young witch seemed well enough, if a little pale, paler anyway. Her recovery was a testament to the skill of the Dragon Temple’s healers. They’d restored full movement to her shoulder and he’d already seen her cast several spells. None of that simple stuff concerned him.
What did concern him was how she’d react in a fight. After getting wounded there was every possibility she’d panic at the first sign of combat. He’d seen it before in young soldiers. Some powered through and others never recovered enough to fight. Hopefully she’d be okay, or at least okay enough that she didn’t get him killed.
They’d taken up position along with Igor and a third of Anapa’s city guard at the docks. If their information was correct, and he felt pretty sure it was, the resistance intended to smuggle the girl out by boat. He couldn’t think of a better way to do it. The only other path out of the Empire was over a rugged mountain range that swarmed with frost wolves.
He shivered at the thought of having to fight the white-furred brutes. He’d seen a stuffed one at a museum years ago. It stood five feet tall at the shoulder, weighed over six hundred pounds, and breathed a mist that if it hit you would freeze the blood in your veins. No, leaving by boat was definitely the way to go.
When he peeked at Irmina a second time she caught him. “I’m fine, Agent. I don’t need you fussing over me like a mother hen.”
“Someone needs to.” Since she’d revealed her vulnerable side Yarik found he had a hard time lumping her in with all the other witches. “Nosorova barely looked at you when you arrived. I figured since you all talk about being sisters she might have been more worried.”
Irmina looked around and Yarik mimicked her. The nearest person was Igor and he was twenty paces away whistling an off-color shanty.
“I don’t know how much you know about the White Witches, but while we’re sisters, united against all enemies of the Empire, we’re also competitors, always striving to outdo one another and gain status in the eyes of the czar. Power and authority all flow through him. His current favorite leads the order and those out of favor end up in the middle of nowhere.”
“Is that how you ended up answering my call?”
She offered a weak smile and for a second he saw the young woman instead of the witch. “I’ve come to like you, Agent Yarik, so I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not, by a far measure, the strongest member of the organization and getting shot isn’t going to do my status any favors. Unless I do something remarkable, like capture a runaway candidate, I’ll spend the rest of my life a thousand miles from the capital doing nothing worthwhile.”
“There’s something to be said for the quiet country life. It’s much calmer, less politics, fewer rebels. Before this little outburst I hadn’t been shot at for fifteen years. Assuming I live, I’d be happy to go another fifteen.”
“My ambition runs a little higher than that. At a minimum I’d like to serve in the capital someday.”
Ambition was a fine way to get yourself killed, but judging by the set of her jaw explaining that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”
“You’re a very poor liar, Agent, but thank you just the same.”
An explosion ripped through the quiet morning. Flames blossomed three hundred yards from their post. Irmina turned and ran, but before she’d gone three steps Yarik said, “Wait!”
She spun to face him. “Wait? The resistance is attacking the docks. They’re obviously trying to force their way through to the escape ship.”
“Whatever the Empire may think of the rebels, they’re not stupid. That has to be a distraction. If you take to the air and hide yourself we’ll get out of sight down here. I suspect we’ll get a nice surprise.”
She chewed her lip and looked again toward the drifting smoke and crack of rifles. “Should one of my sisters capture the runaway my hopes for advancement die.”
Yarik shrugged. “Igor, are there any good hiding places around here?”
“Yes, sir. There are shipping containers stacked against the warehouse at the edge of the docks. We can hide there and see anyone approaching.”
“Good man.” Yarik clapped Igor on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“I will keep watch from above.” Irmina flew up, slowly fading from sight as she did so.
Yarik grinned as he ran for the warehouse. Learning to trust others was a difficult thing for witches. In fact, most never learned how to do it. Maybe there was hope for this one yet.
* * *
Fedor parked their borrowed car a block from the docks in a parking lot facing an empty public beach. According to the local resistance the guards had ordered the beach cleared and closed when they started to search the area. The locals hadn’t been thrilled, but they weren’t stupid enough to say anything.
Anya sat in the back seat and peered at the many boats bobbing in the water. Which of them would carry them out of this awful place? She didn’t know, though she hoped it was one of the bigger ones. Maybe the luxury yacht with the blacked-out windows. She could see herself lying on the deck and enjoying the sun along with her freedom.
Her gaze shifted to take in the many figures in white that dotted the area. There had to be at least a hundred guards protecting the ships. Hopefully the rebel cells preparing to attack would be enough to get their attention.
Fedor checked his watch then took out a set of binoculars. “Any minute now.”
Anya chewed her thumbnail. It seemed like they spent a lot of time waiting. Much as she hated the fear that came with action, she preferred it to the anticipation. Best to get it over with as soon as possible.
As if her thought caused it, a huge fireball blossomed at the far end of the pier. The distant crack of gunfire filled the air. She’d heard far too much of that over that past weeks.
“Do we go?” Mom asked. She had her hand on the door handle.
“Not yet.” Fedor didn’t lower his goggles. “Let them get fully engaged.”
They waited two minutes, then five. Anya’s stomach twisted and her heart raced. Let’s just do it already! She wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs, but she swallowed the words and waited. Fedor had seen them safely through up to now and she’d trust him to continue to do so.
“Now.”
Everyone piled out of the car. Anya and her mother had abandoned their bags at the warehouse. Anything that might slow their escape was left behind. Anya had balked at first, but then decided she didn’t want anything that might remind her of the Empire. She could start fresh wherever they ended up.
“I should have asked this before,” Fedor said. “But you two can swim, right?”
Anya blanched. Her class had spent two weeks learning the basics in the Black Rock River three years ago and she hadn’t been in the water since. She knew how to keep her head above water, but that was about it.
“We’ll manage,” Mom said.
Fedor nodded and led the way down to the shore. He kept right on going, wading into the water up to his chest before setting out at an angle from the beach with powerful strokes. The cool water raised goosebumps on her legs.
When the water r
eached her waist Anya hesitated.
Mom put a hand on her shoulder. “You can do it, kiska. Just stay beside me.”
Anya nodded and they lunged out into the water together. She paddled franticly with her hands and feet, using the crude dog paddle her teacher had demonstrated.
Slowly, but steadily she followed along in Fedor’s wake. She had just enough presence of mind to wonder how the big man had learned to swim so well. Perhaps she’d ask him on the boat. Beside her Mom glided along with a smooth sidestroke, her gaze never straying from Anya. She felt a little better knowing her mother was keeping an eye on her.
Ahead of them Fedor had stopped and was treading water. They paused beside him.
“This is where it gets tricky,” he said. “Our boat is the fifty-foot trawler with a black hull. We need to approach with a minimum of splashing. If any of the Imperials have half a brain they’ll have left someone to keep an eye on the boats. Watch me and if I dive, you dive. Okay?”
Anya and her mother nodded. Swimming underwater couldn’t be any harder than swimming at the surface, right? At this point she was willing to do anything to leave the water behind. If she had to swim underwater, so be it.
Fedor set out again, this time using a weird stroke that made hardly a splash and left his eyes barely out of the water. She tried to emulate him, but had a hard time coordinating her arms and legs. She made progress, slow progress, but at least she was quiet.
A shadow flashed across the water ahead of them and Fedor dove beneath the surface. Anya held her breath, said a little prayer, and followed. She clawed her way down, trying to ignore the odd distortions waving in her vision.
They floated ten feet below the surface. Anya clamped her jaw shut so tight it ached. Her lungs burned and just when she thought they’d burst Fedor pointed to the surface. Anya kicked for all she was worth and burst from the water gasping for air. She fought not to cough for fear of the noise and managed a strangled croak.
When she’d collected herself they swam on. How far was this stupid boat anyway? It felt like they’d been in the water forever.
Escape From the Dragon Czar: An Aegis of Merlin Story Page 9