Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

29. Dark Magic

twenty-nine

Dark Magic

Lev hated riding in the rain but he had to be tough with all the old lords watching him. The first time he’d taken a life was when the archmage made him execute a convict. He’d been twelve or thirteen and crying a bunch because they’d sent Sofia away to live with an old bastard in the middle of nowhere. ‘Men don’t cry unless they’re a twat. Are you a twat, Lev of Guard?’ The archmage had scowled.

Queen Kseniya was dead and Prince Nikolas was at the helm. Not any less mad than his mother apparently because the boy had sent an envoy to the Menshikov asking for Lev’s head to be returned in the box the envoy brought. Bogdan being Bogdan got awfully offended and sent the box with the envoy’s head because according to him, the boy prince had threatened to ‘open the dver ’ upon his house. You did not menace easterners with dark alchemy and not expect violence in return. Stranger still, Lev had received a letter from Sofia, from the same envoy nonetheless, about how she was well. Not to worry, his sister had written, because Aleksei wouldn’t harm her. It was good she lived and he hoped she was right but Krakova had lost its mind, sprouted more than one head, Sofia begging him to take the peace negotiations seriously whilst the prince demanded his allies kill him.

The shriveled leaves fell to the ground in the last rain of the fall and the sodden earth squelched as the horses trotted over it. The silver birches were beautiful in the paintings, but it was miserable out here, on the road for days. Heavy fog blanketed the forest floor and hung from the trees. The watchmen could flank them, and they wouldn’t see them till they were bashing his face in.

“For the love of saints, can you quit that?” Lev turned to Semyon. He’d been eating some type of jerky for hours, endlessly chewing.

Semyon swallowed then beamed a grin. Lev immediately regretted lashing out at him. He wasn’t annoyed with Semyon, of course not. He went against his father who supported the throne to rally Lev. Just two days ago, one of Semyon’s cousins tried to kill him. It was a dog eat dog world out in the east.

Clodt dead, Konstantin was now the captain of the Guard Knights, and he rode with Lev, as well as Erlan, another knight of his. Skuratov and Apraksin retainers were with their lords too because Semyon and Vasily were with him. They were a dozen, not a great force should Duke Rodion send his assassins. He’d killed Queen Kseniya was the word through the vine. The duke would claim tsar regent because Nikolas wasn’t of age, and now there would be no division among the Shield forces. Come spring, there would be war, and they were on the road to court the Menshikov in the literal sense. Lev was being betrothed to the Menshikov like some bride, and if Bogdan was an example of how the rest of the family looked, the girl would have broader shoulders than Lev and be as ugly as sin with a face as though the saints hated them.

“Disgusting,” Lev whispered as a shiver of revolt passed through him.

“Cold?” Semyon asked.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just get out of the weather. Are we nearly there or what, Vasily?”

Vasily rode at the head of the group and twisted in his saddle and pointed, saying something, but his words passed by Lev’s ears as unintelligible noise. Lev hadn’t caught it because he hadn’t cared. His mind was elsewhere. What if the mad prince threatened to burn his sister or worse? Though he hoped, he didn’t have a whole lot of faith in Aleksei.

“Do you know if Aleksei’s killed one of his women before?” Lev found himself asking.

“Not sure.” Semyon shrugged. “Bogdan has beaten a woman to death, though. The word is, she laughed at his pecker.”

“I know that!” Lev snapped again. He gave his ‘I’m sorry, please pity me’ look to Semyon and the blond bear waved it off, telling him not to worry. “I’m asking about Aleksei,” Lev said.

“I don’t know, but he’s the second highest paid courtesan at court,” said Semyon. “Ladies must like him and it ain’t his charm either. If he’d killed one of them, word would get around. You see how women don’t touch Bogdan with a ten-foot lance now.”

“I suppose,” Lev muttered.

“Burkhard, on the other hand, killed his wife,” said Semyon. “He beheaded her, I think.”

“I hope he’s not like his father,” Lev muttered, back to worrying for Sofia. He could pull all his hair out. Might as well. He was about to have a hideous wife. A shiver made its way through him again.

“Do you want my cloak?” Semyon asked.

“What am I going to do if she’s wretched, Syoma?”

Clonk, clonk, clonk, the endless sound of hooves. He missed his Rhytsar and hated this large gelding who dragged his weight too heavy. Perhaps not ‘hated’ because he loved horses, but he missed his own was all. The mist tasted of wet grass and he wished there was somewhere to stop and smoke. His body ached from being on the road too long and he wanted opium to make it a little tolerable. Warm tea with sugar would help too. Sitting on a chair sounded good, and sleeping on clean linen was even better. He hated nature was his problem and it wasn’t even winter yet.

“Think of it this way,” Semyon said. “She’s most certainly going to be wretched.”

“Well, she’s a Menshikov,” said Konstantin who’d apparently been eavesdropping. “And they are large boned folk.”

Lev and Semyon rode side by side and there were knights in front of them and behind. Konstantin had been behind.

“You marry her. Then we’ll kill her, Bogdan, his brothers, and the old lord. Then you can claim their army,” Semyon joked.

“Perhaps don’t have such a conversation surrounded by ears. Not everyone will possess the wit to understand Lord Semyon’s humor,” advised Konstantin.

Lev looked over his shoulder to ask Konstantin, “Any advice on women? You had your fair share certainly, old knight.”

“Try to like them. That helps,” Konstantin said.

Semyon cackled but this was no laughing matter. Lev was the one who had to stick his cock in that shit. Another shiver passed.

“Are you catching a fever?” Semyon asked.

“Do you remember I was with Zoya?” Lev asked.

“Yes, I was there.” A wide grin stretched his face.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Lev calmed himself.

“That was a group effort,” Semyon said. “If that’s what you want, invite Bogdan to your bedchamber.”

“I’d rather impale myself.” Another shiver. Maybe he was having a fever after all. “Konstantin, this is your neck of the woods. How are weddings out here?”

“We drink a lot. We eat a lot. And they’ll expect you to consummate the union. You hang the white cloth where the bride bled as proof. That’s all.”

Fucken great.

Semyon held out his wool cloak and Lev took it, if nothing else for comfort, and perhaps sensing his distress, Semyon changed the subject. “You know how Daniil pads his bulge?”

“Does he?” Lev turned. He liked gossip. “I always thought he appeared larger than he was. I even asked for his tailor, too. His trousers look great.”

“Yeah,” Semyon said. “I heard your Dragon’s Breath at the steeplechase licked his padding and… you know, it caught fire.”

All right, that had been funny. Even Konstantin laughed.

“We’re almost there, Lev.” Vasily pointed ahead and yelled, killing all good humor.

Vasily Apraksin had the energy of someone who’d strangle you in your sleep. He used to be a twin, but his sister died when they were young, and Lev wouldn’t be surprised to find Vasily killed her, stuffed her, and turned her into one of the trophies he kept. House of Apraksin was small, mainly made decorative swords and sold them at eye gouging prices, and he didn’t need them at all except the eastern houses tended to band together and Vasily was Bogdan Menshikov’s friend. What they did to pass time out here, except flay animals, Lev didn’t know. Eastern houses were fucken creepy was what.

The Menshikov had the largest army they kept saying, but unlike the Shields who kept trained soldiers, Menshikov men were conscripted peasants, called upon only when needed. There was nothing else to do out here with the treacherous weather, the land frozen most of the year. They sold timber to the western houses and hunted both animals and people.

The rain had eased up as they rode out of the trees and a fractured rainbow arched over the yellow marshland, flickering as though water geysered from the ground.

“Look, the saints smile upon us,” Semyon said.

“I hope so,” Lev said. Then they saw some bears. Of course they did. These lands were cursed with bad fortune.

The Menshikov fortress was large and dire, but the first thing Lev noticed was the onion domed spires reaching toward the darkening sky as though praying. They couldn’t afford gold and it was just painted yellow but they were religious out here.

Lev and Semyon rode after the Apraksin men, their own men behind them, as the ugly fortress like oversized porcupine quills grew closer.

They’d been talking about pretty women, trying to encourage Lev, but the conversation veered to men, and Semyon said, “Dominik is the pretty one.”

“A sentinel?” Disgust had been Lev’s first reaction, and he twisted in his saddle with a grimace, but then he reconsidered. Dominik had gorgeous sun kissed skin. “He entertains men?”

“Exclusively,” Semyon said.

“Aleksei?”

“Not that I know of,” Semyon said. “What is this obsession with him?”

“He has my fucken sister, Syoma.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” said Lev. “This is absolute dog shit.” They’d reached Menshikov gate. “Are they not supposed to greet me, Konstantin?”

“Let me go inside and announce my lord’s arrival.” The knight dismounted.

He yelled by the gates. No one answered. The knight banged on the gate and it opened inward.

“What’s the point of the damned watchtower if not to watch?” Lev mumbled, nudging his horse forward because it didn’t want to go through the gate. He struggled with his unruly mount for a few breaths, then grunted and dismounted.

“Careful, my lord,” Erlan voiced his concern. His horse didn’t like the estate either.

“It’s probably some carcass inside,” said Lev, handing off his reins to a Skuratov retainer because he wanted both his knights with him. “We need real warhorses not skittish about blood and bears.” Nagging about this, whining about that, he was turning into an old man already.

Semyon’s blue eyes were on the vultures circling in the darkening sky. “Something dead inside, huh?”

“You don’t say?” Done with expecting some form of civility from the Menshikov, Lev barged in through the gate.

Vasily, Semyon, and the two Guard knights Konstantin and Erlan followed him in. The men were having trouble with their horses and Lev left them outside the gate, not wanting to return to the carcasses of their mounts—bears, wolves, and demons out here in the forsaken east.

“Fortress my ass, it’s wood,” complained Lev crossing the courtyard. They’d found the dead thing and it was a rotting deer the crows were feasting upon.

“No one attacks this far east. The land is too wretched,” Konstantin said.

“You don’t say.” Lev’s mood was souring by the moment. Some type of disgusting black vines had overtaken the garden and the air reeked. “Is it common in the east to urinate in one’s courtyard, Konstantin?”

“No.”

“Well, it smells like piss out here,” Lev said trying to make light of the situation, but something was wrong. Everyone felt it, their frowns deepening.

Vasily put his hand on his shoulder and scared the shit out of Lev. It also made him realize how tense he was. He turned, meaning to curse out Vasily, but the Apraksin pointed up at something. Lev followed with his gaze. It was just the top of the tower, and Lev squinted but didn’t see anyone.

“What?” he asked.

“That didn’t use to be black,” Vasily said, his eyes scanning the rooftops. “None of this should be black.”

“Have you heard of paint?” Lev asked. There was no denying the unease, but what was he supposed to do? Bail without going in?

“This doesn’t feel right,” Vasily whispered.

Lev could no longer ignore the feeling crawling up his spine, and whispered, “Give it light, Erlan.”

He turned impatiently when it seemed to be taking forever, and saw Erlan had a pitiful little glowing orb in his palm. Then it occurred to Lev that he didn’t know the abilities of his men at all. Perhaps Erlan had some other talent but ‘giving it light’ was not one.

“Forget it,” Lev said. His alchemy hummed, the light bow forming in his hands as he drew, and the arrow whirred. He loosed the arrow toward the roof, not meaning to hit it but to make a splash of light, which it did.

Things like a thousand carrion crows scattered from the rooftops, silently, and dissipated turning to soot.

“What the fuck,” he heard Semyon.

The fortress screamed. The men drew their blades.

“Syoma, stay by me,” Lev whispered, drawing his Apraksin steel saber as he backed away from the fortress, the gate suddenly too far. Dark magic left black residue and that was a lot of fucken magic.

Suppressing the urge to turn and run, Lev backed away from the fortress with his men, not taking his gaze off the evil thing. It was loud, roaring with a thousand cries.

He swung his gaze to Vasily for a beat because he’d been moving in his peripheral, but Vasily was putting on his gauntlets, the alchemy was on the palms, and that was fine. They pressed their backs together and slowly moved as a group, scanning carefully, and praying the horses hadn’t scampered because they were whinnying and the men were yelling.

The arched wooden door of the keep burst open and Bogdan spilled out onto the lawn, only he was merged with another man, two heads sharing a body. It saw them and screamed. Numerous other things burst out behind Bogdan and charged at them.

“Bail, Syoma!” Lev shoved Semyon.

Dragon’s Breath.

Creatures ran through the wall of blaze, on fire, screaming dark shapes. Someone grabbed him. It was Konstantin and they were running.

“Vasily!” Lev turned and yelled.

Vasily’s gauntlets molten red, he punched the ground, setting the earth aflame. A breath later, a series of explosions rocked the House of Menshikov. That was their black powder storage, probably. By then, Lev and his men were out the gate and riding for their lives. They had to get as far away as possible from the source of corruption while they had light and it was falling by the breath on the dark, gloomy, autumn evening.