Compelled (17 page)

“You’re an acolyte like us.” Disappointment pushed Chestibor’s shoulders down, but he perked up when he spotted sweat gathering on my brow.

“Do you have discomfort?” he asked. “We have a meager shelter in the woods.”

Should I go off alone with this guy? Technically, he was still a stranger, but as I watched the other acolytes continue to fight like a bunch of rambunctious high school boys, I suspected I didn’t have many options.

Either way, I had a
maiden’s
knife, and I was willing to gut any guys who got a little too friendly.

So we left the beach and ventured into the jungle.

What Chestibor had referred to as a “meager” hut was an expansive island hideaway with two stories, a covered patio, and even a creek as a fresh water source. I held back a laugh. They didn’t have windows, per se, but with all the time on their hands, they’d built something grand.

“This is…amazing,” I blurted as we walked into what appeared to be a common room with a central fire pit. It was like visiting the set of one of those castaways-on-a-deserted-island movies like the
Swiss Family Robinson
.

Everything set the scene, except for a far wall, filled with written words. They’d burned the words for spells into bark slabs and attached the pieces to the wall. Many phrases I recognized as the basics for manipulating the elements, but there were many longer spells I hadn’t seen or heard before.

And they called themselves acolytes…

“It isn’t much. I hope you like it.” The look that flashed across his face reflected a little interest. It had probably been a while since he’d seen the opposite sex.

Time to make things crystal clear. “Whoa, there! I’ve got a mate, buddy.”

“Who is buddy? My name is Chestibor.”

“It’s what you can call someone other than their given name.” I sighed. “Don’t worry if I’m not making any sense. What I’m trying to say is that I have a mate back where I came from.”

“That’s too bad.” He nodded with understanding.

Chestibor offered me cool water, a coconut (the hairy fruit—ha), and some tasty fish jerky. They hit the spot after a long night—or should I say afternoon?

The other guys joined us a bit later, one with a black eye and the other with a ghastly split lip. As werewolves, they’d heal soon enough, though. They settled into a routine, doing chores around me, only glancing my way once in a while.

What else could I do until tomorrow at noon when the tree “activated?”

A question came to mind as I finished my food. “Why haven’t you guys built a ship?”

Radomir stopped what he was doing first. He was in the middle of braiding his long, brown hair. They all looked at each other, and it was Chestibor who spoke first. “We’re not too good at shipbuilding.”

“The last three attempts never made it past the reef,” Dragomir said quietly.

“Two shark attacks,” his brother Radomir added.

Dragomir shook his right leg as if something dreadful had happened to it. “You mean three.”

Radomir shuddered. “I’m trying to forget that attempt.”

“Awww.” Poor guys.

“Old magic can only do so much,” Blazh remarked. “We’ve cast countless spells, but none of them have helped us escape this prison.”

I tried not to let their words sink in, but the feeling was there. Would I regret leaving Thorn behind for the years to come on this deserted island?

The day stretched on into the late afternoon. Dragomir and his brother left with fishing poles while Chestibor had disappeared elsewhere. After Blazh finished gathering firewood, he settled next to the fire pit and mumbled to himself.

At first, I thought he was crazy and talking to his imaginary friends, but I caught a few words in the ancient tongue.

After some time, curiosity got the best of me, so I found a spot to sit nearby and asked, “What spell are you reciting?”

“A special one.” He grinned. “For the longest of time we searched the land for a master, but we couldn’t find one. Luck found us when a traveling merchant told us of a legendary band of old magic spellcasters. During Batu-Khan’s invasion they had been called to Kyjev to offer reinforcements for the wizards stationed there.”

“Fascinating.” I’d never heard of these people before.

“They never made it, though, and Batu-Khan destroyed Kyjev. Legend says there was deception of some kind in their ranks, and, somehow, they were imprisoned.”

“Where?”

“To the northwest of Kyjev. I don’t know if the site is still there, since so much time has passed, but my friends and I wanted to set them free. We thought maybe they would be grateful and teach us what we’ve wanted to learn for so long.”

A sliver of hope pulsed through me at that moment, but I tried to ignore it. Blazh’s tale could be what he called it: a legend and nothing more. But what if they really existed? What if there were werewolf spellcasters who had the strength and bravery to face an army as formidable as Batu-Khan’s?

Blazh continued. “In preparation to set them free, I’ve been reciting a spell to manipulate the earth to pull them from their prison.”

“Amazing. Can you teach it to me?”

He nodded and began again, tapping his knees with each syllable.
 

“
Ndinae kodo maeda maeda
…”

The spell went on and on, and I had the impression there was no end to it, yet when that first word came up again, I recognized it since he always said it with flourish.

After some time I couldn’t resist smiling. “You’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

“We’ve practiced simple spells, but we banded together in the hope that we’d find a proper master.”

“I’ve had the same problem,” I admitted. I told him about my husband’s curse and how my grandma and Tamara were the only old folks who knew anything.
 

He was surprised at how much the attitude toward old magic had changed due to the Code.

“So only women are interested in old magic now?” Blazh sputtered, his short torso stretched considerably. He still didn’t reach my chin, but his spirit towered over me.

“Pretty much. My mate learned a thing or two, but he’s the only one I know.”

We continued to chat and Blazh even tried to teach me a few more spells as the sun set. It was refreshing for once to have a kind teacher like Grandma.

Dragomir and Radomir soon returned with our dinner: fresh fish. The hot coals in the fire pit crackled as Dragomir placed the fish on heated rocks. The enticing aroma floated over to me and I sighed.

At noon tomorrow, I better get us out of here or I’d have many more dinners by the fireside.

Chapter 16

I was thrilled to leave. The acolytes not so much. How many times had they approached the tree filled with hope, only to walk away in defeat?

How the hell was I supposed to get us all out of this? What did I know that they didn’t?

Nick had told me there were all kinds of jump points. To travel from place to place, magical folks like fairies and other mystical beings, had punched a hole in the fabric of magic and these places had been what was left over.
 

While the guys took their time to get here, I sat under the tree’s shade. A few coconuts had fallen overnight, but I stepped around them. Blazh was the first to show up, but doubt touched his features. He probably expected me to become the island’s newest resident. The others followed, not carrying much with them except a weapon and a meager sack over their shoulders.

I almost reached out and touched the rough bark, but I stopped and laughed. Hadn’t I gotten myself into trouble when I didn’t think things through last time? I hadn’t had a choice, but this time was different. If I remembered right, when Nick and I used a jump point that connected Jersey to New York, he hadn’t just touched the rock. He’d taken a moment to really pause before he did the deed. Maybe he thought about his destination. Perhaps it was that simple—along with the timing factor.
 

Now all I needed to do was think about the nearest jump point to St. Petersburg so I could accomplish my next mission: contact the local packs and rally them to help me. I hesitated, thinking about what Blazh told me.

What about the legend? Could I take them there to fulfill what they wanted to do, and, in turn, the old magic spellcasters could help me? My fists clenched in frustration. I didn’t want to make this choice right now. Thorn’s life hung in the balance if I got this wrong.

 
“Damn it,” I muttered.

“Natalya?” Blazh said.

“Everything is fine,” I whispered. “If this tree does its job, we’ll reach Kiev in no time.”

So I had made my decision.

But what if there wasn’t a jump point near Kiev?

Damn it! Don’t think that way!

I’d have to take that chance.
 

“It’s almost time, Natalya,” Chestibor said. The sundial must read noon. I checked my wristwatch. The hour was wrong, but the timing to the minute was accurate. We didn’t have long to wait.

“Everyone take each other’s hands,” I instructed. “Blazh, grab the bag on my back and hold on tight.”

Once everyone had a good grip to form a chain, I placed my hand on the smooth sand near the base of the tree. The pull was there, growing stronger every second. The timing had to be damn near perfect. I looked at the watch again, staring intently. A gal like me made sure any timepiece I used was accurate to the second. Atomic clocks could be set with the damn thing.

As my hand hovered over the bark, waiting for the watch’s minute hand to hit twelve, I thought of Kiev. Every landmark I remembered from books and my studies in Russian literature. The Pechersk Lavra, with its golden-tipped buildings built so many centuries ago. Then St. Sophia’s Cathedral and Independence Square flashed through my mind. I just needed a place close enough for me to do what needed to be done.

When the minute hand struck twelve, I fell toward the tree and grabbed it. The full power from the jump point shot through me, rolling over me like hard ocean waves. There was no escape, no way to fight the overwhelming feeling of drowning—then all that disappeared as the day turned into night and the ocean breeze became another kind of wind altogether.

I’d placed us right on the edge of a tall downtown building.

Chestibor cursed, turning sharply to grab the thick, gray bricks on the wall. The brothers followed suit.

“Have we reached hell?” Dragomir whispered.

Not hell, but close to it―rush hour in downtown Kiev.

Wind from between the grand buildings whistled to us. I tried to scoot right far too quickly, and plummeted down.

I expected to see the ground racing toward me, but I fell onto a balcony instead.

Thud!

Blazh called my name from above. The stone structure held my weight just fine, but the concrete wasn’t forgiving and my cheek slammed into it with a hard thunk.

Ouchie.
Why did everything have to hit my face?

Balance was one of my fortes, but not like this. I rolled onto my back and cracked open one eye to see the guys climbing down after me.

“That didn’t look good at all,” Chestibor tried to whisper to Dragomir.

“I heard that,” I muttered. Blazh helped me stand. As much as I was in pain, I couldn’t help feeling exuberance. In the distance, I spied Independence Square and tried to grin. My face exploded in pain. Reaching up gingerly, I touched the skin. My cheekbone was broken and the puffiness meant I’d done other kinds of damage. An audible crunch along my jaw told me my body had begun the process of healing.
Lovely.

But the good news first. I pumped my fist. I did it. I’d set them free!

Now the next question remained. How the hell would I get them down? I glanced through the balcony’s glass doors into the dark room beyond. Breaking in was an option, but getting them through the building would be a problem with security. A sigh escaped me. I’d have to either break in or get down the old-fashioned way.

As I took in the busy street below I wondered if I dared to jump and see how well I manipulated the wind. Or maybe how fast I’d meet the ground to break more than my face.

After climbing off the balcony, our ragtag group descended slowly down the wall, taking it easy to remain in the shadows as much as possible. With my luck though, we were seen. The guys had medieval garb on and Dragomir had a pretty big sword sheathed at his hip.

When I reached the second floor, a small crowd had gathered, their phones out to record our progress to the ground.
Well done, keeping things undercover, Nat.

“Are you doing a stunt for TV?” one man asked in Ukrainian. “Are we on TV right now?”

“Oh, yeah,” I replied in what little Ukrainian I knew.

Folks glanced around and we beat a hasty exit before the cops showed up. As we ran down the street, the sounds of sirens increased behind us. Damn they were fast around here.
 

The food smells hit me next. Not that what the acolytes had served me had been bad or anything, but grilled fish wasn’t the same as creamy fettuccine or even Dunkin’ Donuts.
Yep, downtown Kiev has one.
All the stores I passed smelled so good. Even the street vendors I passed made the wolf in me pant with excitement.

Culture shock flashed across the guys’ faces at every corner. From the women to the cars and bright street lights. The crowds here in the city center were thick and I tried to get us out of there as fast as I could.

According to Blazh, we had to head northwest toward the town of Kozelets off the Oster River. So northwest we went. The trip out of the city took forever, especially with a pit stop to a goblin’s coffee shop to charge my phone for a spell. I had plenty of messages, but not much time to check them. The goblin was about as stingy as Bill, charging me by the minute.

“I don’t know why you werewolves think you can push people around,” the goblin said under the glamour of a balding young man. “I own the power here. If you want to chit-chat away on your little talking box you can pay me the money I deserve.”

The acolytes remained quiet, taking the coffee I offered without sour comments to the irate shopkeeper. Maybe this new world was too much for them.