“It’s not him I’m worried about,” she said, but Izrayl was already walking toward Mychal with a grin on his face.
“What’s going on?” Isabelle appeared. She was watching Izrayl and Hamish talk to Mychal, who had a slightly bemused expression on his face.
“We’re about to see two very cocky boys cry,” Aleksandra muttered. She saw Mychal shrug and walk into the centre of the mat. Without warning, Izrayl swung at him while his back was turned. Mychal moved a millimetre to the right and it missed him completely. Izrayl rallied as Mychal turned to face him. The first series of punches Mychal blocked effortlessly, barely moving around the mat at all. Izrayl was quick and insanely strong but Mychal wasn’t ever where he was aiming. Hamish joined in from the opposite side of him and then Mychal moved.
“Gods, he isn’t even trying to hit them back. He’s only blocking them,” breathed Katya. The women had all stopped to watch. Aleksandra had seen Mychal fight demons, in her dreams and in flesh. He was barely paying attention. “Look how fast he is, Aleki.”
“He is going easy on them,” Aleksandra replied. “He’s only satisfying their curiosity.” They stared at her to see if she was joking. Seeing that she wasn’t, they turned their attention back to where Hamish and Izrayl were raining down kicks and punches. Mychal moved effortlessly between the spaces where they weren’t, and Aleksandra welled up with a fierce pride. It made her feel slightly guilty for not intervening, but Izrayl and Hamish had started it. She’d always considered fighting unpleasant, but watching Mychal move was beautiful. Izrayl and Hamish weren’t holding back and if any of their blows landed on him they could’ve done damage, but they hadn’t even gotten close.
“What’s happening?” Søren appeared next to Anya’s shoulder, making her jump. Aleksandra thought Søren was almost as scary as Mychal. Something about him made you uneasy. He wasn’t wearing his official Dauđi Dómr uniform, and yet you could tell he was a soldier in the same manner that you could about Mychal. The way they held themselves was like a bundle of energy trying to explode but kept under control. Aleksandra could see from a mile away that he made Anya nervous too. Those unnaturally green eyes could slice you to pieces.
“These silly pups are getting taught a lesson,” Anya explained. “I’ve never seen anything like him. He would kick your ass easily.” She gave him a teasing smile before turning her attention back to the fight. She didn’t see those emerald eyes narrow but Aleksandra did. She looked back toward Mychal in time to see him catch and twist Hamish and Izrayl’s arms in one smooth move before doing a slight jump and kicking out their legs. Izrayl and Hamish landed on their backs with an arm and a leg broken each.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” muttered Izrayl as Katya ran over to help him sit up.
“Don’t be such a baby,” she snapped. She was acting bitchy but Aleksandra could see her checking every inch of him for damage.
“Nice one, dude,” Hamish said as he cracked his broken bones into place so they healed straight, “I haven’t had my ass kicked in years.”
Mychal shrugged, “You did ask me to.”
“I know! Stupid me. Lucky I heal quickly.” Mychal offered him an unexpected hand and helped him off the mat. “Thanks, I’ll stick to fighting Izrayl from now on. He’s slower and fatter.”
“I’m not fat!” Izrayl said as he got to his feet, “but I’m slow as fuck compared to you. No wonder you fight demons, nothing else would be a challenge.”
“Something like that,” Mychal replied. Izrayl offered him a hand and Mychal shook it.
“Can you use a sword at all?” Søren asked. The room went silent.
“Of course I can.” Mychal nodded. Aleksandra felt a weight fall into her stomach. She knew what Izrayl and Hamish could do but Søren was a wild card. As she watched the Álfr get two thin swords out of a cabinet, Mychal shot her a smile. The bastard was having fun while she was panicking. He accepted the sword that was offered to him and he spun it a few times to test the weight.
“This could end very messily,” Anya said as she watched them.
“It could, but it won’t. Mychal won’t hurt him.”
“I know Mychal wouldn’t, but I don’t know about Søren.”
“This is going to be so fucking good,” Hamish said as he nudged Isabelle with his elbow.
As before, Mychal let his opponent make the first move. The sound of steel on steel cut through the air and Aleksandra’s breath caught in her throat. Søren was so fast. Mychal defended himself easily, but he was actually going to have to work to get the better of the Álfr.
“All fire…”Anya murmured to herself as she watched Søren almost take Mychal’s head off. Mychal responded swiftly, making Søren lose his footing and fall backwards. He rolled out of the way, as Mychal’s sword came down on him. He managed to catch the end of Søren’s long hair and black strands littered the mat.
“That was close,” the Álfr smiled when he was back on his feet. He feinted to his right and as Mychal went to defend, Søren’s blade changed direction, caught the strap of Mychal’s singlet, and sliced right through the cloth.
“Very close,” Mychal said as he got rid of the hanging tatters.
“Strip sword fighting, I like it!” Katya laughed as they copped an eye full of skin, scars and tattoos. Aleksandra ignored her and watched the near misses come thick and fast on the both of them. Soon, they were both shining with sweat as they ducked, spun and jumped out of the line of each other’s blades. They stood facing each other panting; their swords still up. Then Mychal started to laugh. He’d never laughed in front of the others, and it was so big and joyful they could only stare.
“I’ve never met anyone as half as good as you,” said Søren as he lowered his sword. “Not a human in any case.”
“Likewise, you are excellent,” admitted Mychal. “I thought you were going to draw blood.”
“Who’s drawing blood?” Ruthann swept into the training room with a perplexed expression. “So, this is where everyone is hiding! What is happening here?”
“I was about to get defeated by Mychal here,” Søren explained with a smile. Ruthann looked up at Mychal and paled.
“What are you?”
Chapter Five - History
Ruthann’s rooms were a lot bigger and grander than the ones Aleksandra and the others were housed in. They’d all accepted his invitation to dine with him that evening and Aleksandra was nervous about it. He’d recognised what Mychal was before quickly covering it up. She couldn’t let it lie so she’d turned up on his doorstep thirty minutes early.
Mychal was a step behind her as she walked around the large sitting room, looking at the paintings on the walls. She smiled as she felt his warm fingers rest on the back of her neck.
“This curl is driving me crazy,” he said as he twisted a stray lock. He bent down and kissed the pale skin under her ear. “Let’s get out of here.” It was a tempting suggestion.
“Stop trying to distract me. I have questions for Ruthann and it would be rude to leave when someone has gone to find him,” she said. “You’re trying to get out of talking to him.”
“I really don’t care about talking him. I do care about exploring your skin,” he replied as he kissed her neck down to her shoulders.
“That’s not fair.”
“I don’t play fair.” Aleksandra opened her mouth to swear at him when Ruthann came in. He looked magnificent in dark red robes. It took a certain kind of man to be able to wear robes, but he mastered them with flair.
“I apologise for keeping you waiting,” he said as he poured them wine.
“We’re early,” Aleksandra said as she accepted a glass. She watched him offer Mychal a glass and got the same studying look in his eye.
“She wants to know how you recognised my… nature,” Mychal said bluntly. She was going to approach it tactfully. Mychal wasn’t a believer of tact.
“Do your companions know what you are?” Ruthann asked as he sat down and indicated they should do the same.
“No, we don’t even know very much either, aside that I’m part angel. I am happy to remain ignorant. She’s the curious one.” Ruthann’s steady gaze rested on her for a long moment. Mychal knew what he was and what little he knew he was keeping from her. His display of skills today already had Katya bombarding her with questions. Their companions weren’t dumb. They would try to figure out exactly what he was.
“Are you going to tell them that you are part angel?” Ruthann asked as if he could read Aleksandra’s mind.
“If I can’t avoid it,” answered Mychal.
“Søren will try to learn what you are. No one has ever come close to his skill with a blade and you could’ve defeated him today. It will annoy him until he learns the truth.”
“I wish him luck,” answered Mychal, “because he will need it. I have spent the last twenty years trying to find out what I am.”
“Then when you found the answer you didn’t want to know about it. Interesting.”
“Not exactly, I’ve enough problems at the moment. I will deal with it after they are over.”
“No, your problems are only beginning. Part angel kind are not born. They are not nephilim, the original cursed ones. You’re something else entirely. You are a weapon, a tool, and you are here because such trouble is stirring that the humans will not be able to handle it on their own.”
Aleksandra was about to demand answers when Aramis and Søren came in. They were both dressed in neat black dress trousers. Aramis was wearing a dark blue shirt and Søren a dark green. Both set their eyes off brightly in their pale faces. Søren was a little more formal than Aramis and had put on a waistcoat and black tie. They were striking when seen together. Aleksandra quickly moved to kiss Aramis’s cheek.
“It’s so nice to see you up and about again,” she greeted him warmly.
“Good as new,” he replied, and flexed his new hand for her.
“That’s amazing. It will be good to have you around again.” Mychal gave them both a nod and Søren grinned at him.
“Søren tells me you nearly defeated him, Mychal. I would have liked to have seen that,” Aramis said as he poured himself a glass of wine.
“I’d happily do it again for you if your brother is up to it,” replied Mychal. Søren made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a grunt.
“I was going easy on you,” he said.
“Sure you were.” Aleksandra smiled at their banter, mostly because she had never seen Mychal tease anyone except her. When Anya arrived, she was holding Yvan’s arm and laughing. It was nice to see her out of her gloom, even if it was only a temporary reprieve. When she glanced back at Aramis and Søren, both were watching them with a slight frown at their linked arms. Their displeasure evaporated so quickly that she thought she had imagined it.
***
Cerise, Isabelle, Katya, Hamish, and Izrayl arrived soon in a rowdy crowd of laughter. They were dressed up and Anya was glad she decided to wear the floaty black dress Cerise had bought her in Paris. The keres smiled with approval. She’d been withdrawn since Trajan’s death but Anya knew that the keres would be back to flirting with the Álfr in no time.
Finally, Harley and Fox came through the door. Fox looked tired and irritable. Anya suspected that Harley had cajoled, begged, and finally threatened Fox out of the library. Perhaps, giving her an assignment hadn’t been such a great idea, but Anya was thankful she’d been so willing to do it.
“You should go easy on this,” Yvan said as he handed her a glass of red wine. “Apparently, it’s extremely strong.”
“Believe me, I will. I’ve already been drunk on Álfr wine and had a romp in the forest. I’m not in the mood to have some poor man carry me back to my room because I couldn’t walk.”
“I didn’t mind so much last time. You’re rather amusing when you are drunk,” Søren interrupted. Yvan’s eyes narrowed at Søren’s not so innocent smile.
“Come everyone,” Ruthann said over the top of them, “we’ll be eating in the gardens tonight.”
“These Álfr don’t believe in doing things the easy way, do they?” said Izrayl.
“Where would the fun in that be?” Anya laughed. “They have beautiful garden pavilions. Trust me, Izrayl, you will like it.”
“Of course he will,” Katya said. “There will be food involved.”
“It’s an Álfr hospitality custom to eat outside,” Aramis explained, “and I’ve seen far too much of inside for the last few weeks.”
Ruthann offered them fur-lined cloaks before he led them along a path, lit by small lights that hung from the branches above them.
“If I find a lamp post I’m going to lose my shit,” Harley said from behind her.
The path that they followed soon opened up into a brightly lit glade. A low table had been placed on a raised wooden platform and was surrounded by large flat cushions to sit on. Braziers filled with coals warmed the area. The lights in the branches above and around them were delicate glass spheres and globes filled with a luminescent liquid. Anya touched one and it dimmed a little before glowing again. They reminded her of fine glass Christmas decorations, but infinitely more beautiful. It never ceased to amaze her that even the simplest objects made by the Álfr were so gracefully designed. Once seated, Álfr appeared through the trees carrying platters of food and amphora’s of wine before vanishing as silently as they came.
“You are probably all wondering why I called you together like this,” Ruthann said as they ate. “I promised an explanation about why we chose to help the Illumination capture and imprison Yanka. Anya is an honorary member of our people and being under her protection means that you are under ours. Aramis and Søren have agreed that you all should be told about Yanka’s history with our kind especially, because it will be you that will be fighting against her.”
Anya quickly drained her wine and refilled it. She knew that Aramis had a history with Yanka, but that Søren should be involved enough for Ruthann to seek his permission to reveal the past made Anya uneasy.
“This story’s long, so I’m going to give you the abbreviated version,” Aramis began. “I haven’t been able to share this history with anyone because it wasn’t all of mine to tell. I met Yanka after your ancestor, Yvan, had kidnapped her. I was still Dauđi Dómr for the Álfr and one of the leaders of the Illumination asked if they could use me as a bodyguard when they went to deal with one of the greatest powers in Skazki. “
“In that time, Yanka was clever and humorous and was more than happy to help the Illumination. After we had traded information with her, I often went back to Skazki. I could be myself with her and she soon became my confidant, my lover and my best friend. I, in my blinded foolishness, told her about all the things on my mind that were troubling me about the Álfr and about the magic that I was learning. She listened to it all with an open heart and a seemingly good soul.”
“I knew something terrible had happened in her past and occasionally I would see a faint glimmer of darkness that lay beneath. By this time, she’d already planted Vasilli in the Tsar’s court. She never told me she had a child.”
“Even the Illumination had no idea that she had Vasilli,” interrupted Ruthann. “None of their spies in Skazki ever reported it.” Anya sipped more wine as nervous butterflies beat in her stomach. She wished she’d sat next to Yvan so at least she had someone’s hand to hold and calm her down. Instead, she was sitting next to Søren, whose face had gone stone cold with his jaw clenched tight.
“I went backwards and forward to see Yanka for many years. I began to sense the darkness and anger growing inside of her. It worried and frightened me. She began to speak of it inside of her and the blackness that was creeping in. She spoke of blacking out for huge periods of time and waking up covered in blood with no idea at what she’d done. I had heard of Álfr marking and how an Álfr could put a piece of their soul into another being. Of course, I knew such things were forbidden without the council’s approval. I had to try because what made her Yanka
was slowly slipping away from me. I convinced her to come with me to visit the Álfr. She was already one of the Powers, so an elvianth should’ve been easy to perform on her. Or so I thought.”
“To begin with, her time among the Álfr was joyous. She took lessons with our various elders to help learn more about her magic. It was of a darker strain, like Søren’s, and these teachers helped explain it to her. They also worked on eradicating her dark moods and I thought she was improving.”
“So if she was so great, then why did you all hate her?” Anya interrupted.
“Because,” said Søren, cutting Aramis off, “she was feeding our knowledge to aid the Darkness. She wasn’t changing at all. She used Aramis and his infatuation with her to spy and steal from us. When it became clear that Aramis couldn’t put an elvianth on her, she tried to escape. She succeeded, but only through murder, and Aramis left the Álfr to hunt her down. It had all been an act with her. Aramis was to bring her back to face justice for the murder she committed but he still thought that she could been saved from the madness that was eating its way through her. She was always one step ahead of him.” Søren couldn’t hide the sneer or anger in his voice as he continued, “Eventually, I found her before he did. The Álfr leaders had agreed to a pact between Vasya Melenko and us. We didn’t know how to kill Yanka because she was one of the Powers, but we could trap her. I knew that Aramis would never give up on his idiotic search for her or his equally idiotic quest to try making her good once more. We showed him a corpse of a woman, one that Yanka had burned alive when we were capturing her.”
“I left the Álfr,” Aramis spoke over him. “I gave up being Dauđi Dómr and worked with the Illumination in the hope that I could atone for not being able to save Yanka from herself. I hoped I could save others. When I learned that she was still alive, I felt like I could finally alleviate my guilt by making her well again.”
“You couldn’t to begin with,” Søren’s voice was a soft snarl. “You were beyond a fool to think that she could be magically turned good now. If there had been a way to kill her, I would have done it long ago. Your feelings for her be damned.” He stood up abruptly and stalked off through the trees.
Rise of the Firebird Page 5