Page 63 of Cry of the Firebird

"There's a gate not far ahead." Trajan appeared at Anya's side and very subtly took her hand. Anya's eyes widened in surprise, but Katya wasn't surprised at all. "Watch your step. The ground is uneven."

After a few more minutes of climbing over fallen logs and negotiating slippery loose rocks, they spotted the soft lights of a crossing aurora glimmering through the trees.

"There it is," Anya whispered. "I can feel it more intensely than last time." Yvan moved to the left side of her and took her other hand.

"Let's hope you don't have to scream at it again for it to let you through," he said, and they shared a smile.

"All depends if Vasilli's minions are getting ready to attack us again."

"You can take your time, Anya. We have made sure that the coast is clear, and Izrayl can smell trouble from far away even in his human form," Trajan assured her.

"That's why I have to keep away from Katya," Izrayl joked.

"Keep it up, and I'll buy you a flea collar," Katya retorted, shifting her bow from one hand to the other.

"Another dog joke. How original."

Katya opened her mouth with a scathing retort, but Yvan cut her off.

"Do you want to see if you can open a doorway in it?" he asked Anya.

Anya's ashen eyebrows drew together. "I can try. I feel it reacting to my magic. It's like a tugging sensation, and it's calling to me…" she said, letting their hands go and approaching the wall of light. She placed her palm on the aurora and shut her eyes. Katya's breath caught as the light seemed to burn away, creating a tear in the wall.

"I can't believe I did that," Anya whispered.

"Well done, Anya," Yvan said, flicking her braid playfully. "You see, you're a natural gatekeeper like Ilya was. Now you won't have to lose your temper and punch it every time."

"Very funny, Tsarevich. Let's go. I don't know how long it will last," she replied.

As a group, they all lined up and moved as one through the glimmering wall of light and back into the human world.

Not for thefirst time in the last few days, Vasilli found himself ready to burn the forest to the ground to find Anya and Yvan. He knew magic was at work, shielding them from his tracking spells, but he couldn't find the source of it. The usual revealing incantations weren't producing any results. This was old magic, much older than himself, which was very old indeed.

He could sense Anya was close; the thorns were still giving off the same magical signature he had been tracking for days. The previous night he had felt a shudder roll through the forest, and whatever had been blocking his passage was suddenly removed. Without wasting a moment, Vasilli had packed his camp and homed in on the location of his thorns.

By midday the following day, he found the glade where the signal was coming from. He pulled out a knife as long as his forearm, ready to slit the bitch's throat. The magical pulse came from behind a large birch tree, not even a hundred meters from him. He looked about for Yvan, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Perhaps his fool brother had been cast aside by the growingshamanitsa. Yvan had no problem attracting women, but keeping them had never been his strong point.

Vasilli moved quickly, his knife lashing out around behind the tree. It met with bark and nothing else. He swore viciously and spotted the ground amongst the roots had recently been disturbed.

Falling to his knees, Vasilli dug in the mud like a dog until his fingers brushed a small glass vial. Rubbing the mud off it onto his filthy cloak, he saw his thorns still in half an inch of blood.He gripped the vial so hard that it shattered in his hand. As he opened his mouth to scream, an invisible force slammed hard into him. He clutched his head, smearing blood in his hair.

Vasilli, you have failed again. Come to Moscow. They have already crossed over, Ladislav's power and voice forced its way into Vasilli's mind. Vasilli tried to grit his teeth against the pain burning behind his eyes.

When?

Last night. I had our people posted at the gateways through Russia. They are tracking them. Come to Moscow. Do not go after them. That is an order. You will be held accountable for your recent failings.

Without waiting for a reply, Ladislav pulled the connection apart, leaving Vasilli on the muddy ground, still clutching his temples. Blood was dripping from his eyes, nose, and ears, but he didn't bother to wipe it off.

When he could finally stand, he cursed Anya, Yvan, and Ladislav until he was breathless. He had to find the closest gates and get to Moscow. Ladislav was not a creature to be kept waiting, and it wasn't time for him to shrug off the yoke that bound them. He thought of how good it was going to feel to pull the old prick's magic from him and cut off his fucking head when Vasilli was done making him scream.

Soon, Vasilli promised himself. He just needed to be patient, get the power he needed to overthrow Ladislav, and take control of the Darkness for himself.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Katya was trying and failing to sleep in a cramped train carriage smelling of boiled cabbage, dust, and mildew. The interior was painted a dull gray to match the gray curtains, gray bed sheets, and dirty gray carpet.

The public transport color of joy, she thought miserably. They had been traveling for days, and all she wanted was a hot bath and a clean bed.

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