by Taki Drake
Muttering an apology, the older mercenary mounted his horse and reached down to take Zhanna’s blanket-wrapped form from Mikail. Hopping into the saddle, the younger man patted his leg to invite Dascha to jump up, and turned his mount to follow Stefan, already in motion toward Zhanna’s home.
Zhanna was too exhausted to pay attention. She had been trying so hard and yet it was like she was blocked in every direction. She felt like such a failure. Everything had seemed more possible when they left Blagogarsk. The trip back had been much faster, riding the horses that Stefan and Mikail had brought. What had taken her days to travel on the outgoing trip had only taken one day to ride back. Even if the ride had been behind Mikail, holding on for dear life.
Then to find that her grandmother was gone. In fact, the older woman had been gone from shortly after Zhanna’s departure. No one seemed to know exactly when the older woman had left, but it looked like it had been planned since Bolormaa had packed and taken her clothes and scrying bowl.
The dreary train of Zhanna’s thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from Stefan. Looking up through the veil of her exhaustion, the young woman was startled to see a trail of smoke from the chimney and lamps lit in the windows. That indefinable sense of “home” had returned. Her Baba was back.
Struggling out of Stefan’s arms and slipping across the ground, Zhanna ran in frantic haste toward the waiting figure in the doorway.
“Baba!”
<<< >>>
It had been a wonderful reunion, despite Zhanna’s exhaustion. Having her grandmother back was the best medicine she could have gotten. Suddenly, things didn’t look so bad. They talked for hours, Zhanna telling her grandmother about her adventures in the city and Bolormaa relating news of Zhanna’s Mongolian relatives.
Both of the women wanted to hear more, but Zhanna’s exhaustion was too deep. Her grandmother could tell that she had been driving herself too hard and was concerned that she had not been taking care of herself. Finally standing up, Bolormaa smiled lovingly at her granddaughter and said, “It is time for you to go to bed, my dear. We can talk tomorrow.”
Zhanna would’ve argued, but a jaw-cracking yawn caught her unaware and won her grandmother’s argument for her. Snatching several more hugs from her baba, Zhanna crawled into bed and pulled the covers up over herself. Relaxing for the first time in days, her world now again complete, Zhanna dropped into deep sleep.
And found herself on the spirit paths.
The paths were different this time. Where they had been featureless before, they now had different types of rocks and different type of edgings. Placed exactly in the middle of the intersecting roads was a book. Six ties of different colors kept the book closed. Each of the ties had small charms or bells sewn to the ends of them.
There was no one to meet her, no guide. Zhanna was on her own right now standing in front of something that could be useful or dangerous. Looking at the book, Zhanna could not help but think of the first time she saw Mazza. The ancient witch had been sitting on an elaborate chair, staring at Zhanna with a considering look on her face. She had asked her then what she chose. Mazza told her that every time a witch cast a spell they had to decide whether they were willing to pay the price. Whether their goal, their objective was worth the cost.
Zhanna had answered yes. She was willing to pay the cost, no matter what it was. That determination had carried her through the creation of her athame and the severing of the draining tie that had almost killed her. Was what she faced any different than that? Was it any less important?
The answer was no and yes. No, it wasn’t any less important, this learning that she was doing. And yes, she was still willing to pay the price.
Zhanna bent over and picked up the book. She felt a flash of heat through the cover of the book. The charms and bells on the end of the ties trembled, chiming a greeting. What an earth had she just done?
“You just agreed to learn some more, young one,” answered Mazza, the crone. The ancient witch had appeared next to the young witch’s shoulder without warning. Somehow, Zhanna had expected something of the sort. The old one reached out her hand and took Zhanna’s in a dry, cool grip. Nodding approvingly at the lack of trembling, Mazza swept Zhanna with her, off to her next set of lessons.
Chapter 17
It was amazing how rested Zhanna felt the next morning. The practice session with Mazza had been eye-opening and exhausting. The ancient witch seemed to have unlimited power and knew exactly what was going wrong with Zhanna’s spells. Things that had frustrated her for days were solved in minutes. For someone like Zhanna, thirsty for knowledge, the session had been exhilarating.
It was eye-opening in other ways. All of the witches that Zhanna had seen or heard of before worked on the basis of elaborate murmured spells or blood sacrifice. Mazza did nothing like that. For the ancient witch, it was all about the will and the word. Encapsulating the essence of something into a single word or a small collection of words was sufficient she told her student. Anything more than that was simply window dressing, impressive but not necessary.
Many of the comments that Mazza had made were thought-provoking. She mentioned different kinds of witches and different kinds of magic. Zhanna had been raised to think that there was only one kind of magic and only two kinds of witches.
The session had certainly given her things to think about. She suspected that Mazza was the kind of instructor that would leave clues and encourage you to find the answers yourself. Although she knew that it would be uncomfortable in the learning, Zhanna was aware that it was actually the most effective way to learn something thoroughly.
Pain and embarrassment were reinforcements that no one forgot easily. Lessons stapled with one of those lasted for longer than the more easily achieved objectives.
The younger witch suspected that her current assignment was going to be one of those painful ones. Mazza had told her to come back for her next lesson when she had figured out how to open her book. Zhanna wanted her next lesson, needed it. Her burgeoning magic demanded an outlet and if that meant she had to arm wrestle with a magical book, she would.
Zhanna had bounded out of bed early in the morning, full of energy and determination to solve the problem of the book. She knew that it was her problem to solve and that she could do that by finding information. However, she felt that it was inappropriate to ask her grandmother for clues. That possible easier solution felt wrong, and Zhanna was learning to trust her feelings.
This morning, her feelings were telling her to go back to the cave. Although she knew that she was going to see a mess when she got back there, something was drawing her to return. After breakfast with Bolormaa, Zhanna set off for the cave accompanied by Dascha. The two of them had nearly reached the mouth of the cave when they were hailed by Mikail.
“Hey there! You look so much better today, nothing like a drowned rat.”
“Thanks so much for that. I don’t believe I thanked you for yesterday either. It would have been very hard for me to get home after that spellcasting, especially sopping wet. You saved me a very unpleasant trip, and I truly appreciate that.”
“You are very welcome. Stefan and I know how hard you are working and it is very admirable.”
Zhanna smiled at the mercenary, saying, “Why are you out this morning so early?”
He responded, “Stefan and I are going to be doing some additional spellcasting and weapons practice. We thought we would get an early start today and perhaps have time this afternoon for a little bit of fishing.”
Laughing, the young witch said, “That sounds like a good day. I may be dealing with some dead fish myself considering the mess that I made yesterday in the cave.”
Stefan startled both of them when he interjected his comment, “Have you been in the cave yet? Do you know if it’s safe?” Unnoticed by either of them, he had come up behind them and was sitting on his horse only a few feet away.
Zhanna grinned at Stefan’s cleverness and skill before answeri
ng, “No, I have not yet been in there.”
Stefan swung down from his horse saying, “Then how about if we check it out before you go in there. It might have some areas of weakness now. Your explosion was pretty impressive.”
Mikail immediately followed suit, drawing his weapon and letting the reins of his horse fall to the ground at the same time that Stefan did. Both men had well-trained horses. The dropped reins told the horses to stay put unless something dangerous happened. Anything that was dangerous enough to make the horses move away was something that someone in the village would need to know about. All of Stefan’s horses had been taught to run for home if some form of disaster happened. Of course, he had trained his good friend’s horses to do the same.
The two mercenaries led the way, followed closely by Zhanna and Dascha. Zhanna was carrying the book. The book was the main focus of her lesson. She had hoped to find something that she could cast to make it open. Or persuade it to open, or whatever else you did with a magical book. She expected the task to take a while but hoped it would take too long. She REALLY wanted her next lesson!
Zhanna was so focused on thinking about the book that she wasn’t aware of activity around her. She was called back to her reality when she slammed into Stefan’s broad back. He and Mikail had both stopped abruptly. She could not see past them in the darkness of the cavern. Which come to think of it, was unusual.
One of the reasons she liked practicing this cave was that it was illuminated. It had filtered light that came down through the cave crystal and created a soft glow. It meant that she could see to walk without having to light a lantern.
This was different. There is no light here. And there was no odor of dead fish or the damp feel of contained water. Something was definitely going on.
Just then, Stefan asked in a strangled voice, “Is there supposed to be a door in the cavern?” The two mercenaries moved slightly apart, and Zhanna could see a large door in front of them.
“No! There is no door in my cavern. Where are we?”
Mikail answered, “We were hoping you would tell us.”
He turned to look at her, and she noticed how his eyes were drawn past her, back the way from which they had come. His eyes widened, and his face grew slightly pale. She did not need to look. That way was now closed. Something was going on, and they needed to find out what it was.
They couldn’t go backward, and there was a strange door in front of them. Given the choices, Zhanna knew what they needed to do. She took a couple of deep breaths and then tucked her book under her left arm. As she walked past Stefan, his arm twitched as if to stop her. A small shake of her head told him that this was her move, not his.
There was a small bump as Dascha jumped up on her witch’s shoulder, ready and able to assist where she could. The two mercenaries formed a solid wall behind her. They were as ready as they could be.
Zhanna grabbed the handle of the door and opened it, walking through with a firm tread and a wary stance. Stefan and Mikail followed right behind her. The door swung shut quickly cutting off the golden light from the room that they had just entered. An observer in the hallway would’ve heard intriguing snippets of conversation and a welcoming, resonant voice that said, “Welcome to the Badger Hole Bar!”
<<<>>>
It was a sunny day, a perfect day for a walk. The morning sun warmed the air and cast a golden glow over the open fields. Around Zhanna’s practice cavern, the grass was cropped short, and two horses stood patiently waiting. Suddenly, they raised their heads, looking toward the cavern opening. Nickering a greeting, they shifted from foot to foot in anticipation.
As usual, Stefan was the first one through the entrance. He immediately moved to the right followed a split second later by Mikail who came out and moved to the left. Zhanna followed, standing confidently between the two of them. Visually checking the area and finding nothing of immediate concern, the two men went immediately to the horses.
Brushing soft noses, murmured words were poured into attentive ears. The ritual greeting of the horseman for a beloved horse was carried out in two parts. Politely pretending not to notice some of the more endearing things that were said to the animals, Zhanna stood watch over the area.
There was something different about all three of them. They were not exactly the same people that had gone into the cavern.
The biggest difference was in Zhanna. It was a subtle difference in many ways. She looked calmer and stronger, with an altered stance that said she was more confident of her skills. Her book was still at her side but contained in an unusual looking bag. An observant watcher would also have noticed that she had gained some jewelry in the cavern. A small ring on one hand and a hint of one or two necklaces betrayed by small glimpses of the encircling neck chains were the most obvious clues.
Some of the differences would only be noticed by the mercenaries. She had automatically and naturally taken a watch position when her two companions had gone to check their horses. She did it without thinking, part of a pattern or ingrained habit. It was not something that someone would learn a day or two. Instead, it was something that you learned when you had been in a battle with someone and survived. How to have their back, how to do your part.
She had the stance of a battle mage, no longer an inexperienced young girl. And that change in status was reflected in the way that her companions treated her. It was apparent that they trusted her. Trusted her to do her part. Knowing her skills, knowing her strengths.
It was not just Zhanna that had changed. Both Mikail and Stefan looked and moved differently. The slight limp that Stefan had for the last 20 years was gone. He moved like a man in his 20s, cat-like and sure.
The shoulder injury that Mikail had gained 10 years ago in a massive battle also appeared to be healed. His automatic favoring of that side had not totally disappeared, But from the evident pleasure on his face when his arm moved freely, it was obvious that whatever the damage had been it was now repaired.
Of all of them, Dascha showed the least change. The cat was still small and the same color. She wore no new jewelry and had no change in her movement. However, she seemed to anticipate her witch far better, moving in smooth integration and harmony.
The men appeared to be done greeting and checking their mounts. If Zhanna noticed the special treats that were offered to the horses she was kind enough not to comment. At this point, she just wanted to go home.
<<<>>>
The three of them rode up to Bolormaa’s cottage. The old woman was waiting at the doorway. The men called out greetings but the two witches, granddaughter and grandmother had eyes only for each other. Jumping lightly down from the back of Mikail’s saddle, Zhanna ran quickly and lightly up the stairs and flung her arms around her grandma, her Baba. Holding her granddaughter tightly, the seer allowed the happy tears to fall.
Chapter 18
It was amazing to Zhanna that they had only been gone for three days, according to her grandmother. For the witch and the two mercenaries, it had been months. All of that worry about how her grandmother was doing, and it had been for nothing. She should have listened to Agatha more. The young witch was still a little leery of talking about her trip with her grandmother. It would take a while for her to sort it out in her mind, but she knew her baba was exactly the right person to talk with about it. At some point, anyway.
Zhanna found herself holding her two necklaces in her hand. Smiling at the memories, she resolutely focused on the here and now. Anything else could wait till later.
Bolormaa knew some things about where Zhanna had gone but also knew that her granddaughter would talk about it when she was ready. Instead, the older woman brought her up to date on some of the strange things that were happening.
There had been weird lights in the sky and a rash of missing people. In the three days that Zhanna had been gone, at least four more people had gone missing from the village. No one had seen them leave and some of them disappeared from their own beds. The village
was in an uproar, and no one knew what to do. Some of the elders were going to have a meeting that evening to discuss options, and Bolormaa had promised to be there.
Zhanna smiled at her grandmother and said, “Don’t worry about me, Baba. I will have plenty of things to do tonight and don’t need you to help me. After the meeting is over, perhaps we can have some quiet, family time.”
The seer nodded her head in agreement and got up to clean up breakfast. Zhanna also had things to do since Stefan and Mikail had a few people they wanted her to talk with.
<<<>>>
Stefan had suggested that they meet out by the practice area that the three of them had set up close to the cavern. Zhanna had been up and active a little bit earlier than planned that morning, so she got to the practice area with more than a half hour of time to wait. Wandering around, she saw that Mikail or Stefan had already set up some of the targets and training devices that they had used while they were away.