Page 55 of Devil's Doom

“Do your worst, love.”

Chapter nineteen

Rebel

“This is the granary,” Lech says, pointing at a tall door in the central area of Woland’s underground kingdom. “And that tunnel leads to the other side of the river. It goes right underneath. Took a feat of magic to keep it safe and dry.”

The ceilings are high here, giving the illusion of spaciousness. I feel trapped, though, constantly aware of the sheer mass of earth and rock piled on top of me. I know it won’t fall—the tunnels have been dug and expanded centuries ago, and it was done by none other than Weles. All the rebels going about their tasks seem used to staying so deep underground, and I strive not to show my nerves.

Lech gives me a tour, and the more I see, the more I realize the tunnels are like a second city, completely hidden from view, self-reliant thanks to powerful magic that brings in fresh water and air.

Woland’s rebellion is impressive, I grudgingly admit. According to Lech, over a thousand people live down here and follow his orders. Lech is one of the foot soldiers, relegated to painting rebellion marks in the city and recruiting promising candidates—which was why he took interest in me from the start.

“You were an obvious choice,” he says, eyes sliding to my bruised throat and right back up. He keeps glancing at it, and every time he does, I grow more frustrated. “You were new, not yet blinded by Perun’s propaganda. Powerful, too. I let you see the worst of what happens up there, but I had to make sure you could be trusted before I brought you here. This is the forge.”

We enter a vast hall, as large as Woland’s quarters but with a higher, pillar-supported ceiling. Sounds of fighting fill the room. Over two dozen people are here, training in pairs or threes, each group taking up a clearly delineated rectangle of the stone floor.

It’s not a smithy, then. It’s a place where fighters are forged.

“Hand to hand combat, weapon fighting, and further down, magic training. Come on, let’s take a look. The duels are always fun to watch.”

We walk down a path marked with red ribbons, which Lech says is the only safe area in the forge. On either side of us, people of various races fight, and I look this way and that with wide eyes, taking in the different fighting styles. Mortals usually wrestle or swing blades at each other, but here are chochols, whose light, feathered bodies allow them to jump high and far, and bearlike kobolds, who can crush their opponents with their sheer mass. A pair of upir women fight each other using long sticks that slash and parry at a dizzying speed.

“Do you see the barriers? They contain the magic so it doesn’t hit someone by accident.”

We reach the area devoted to magic duels. The stations are bigger, the floor colored purple, and each rectangle shimmers at the edges, the air slightly distorted. As I watch, the strzyga I met when we arrived here throws a flurry of half-transparent needles at her mamuna opponent, who ducks out of the way. The needles hit the shimmering barrier and disappear, the barrier flashing with bright light.

“Look, the traitor is here,” the strzyga shouts, shooting me an ugly look, her milky eyes narrowed. “Came to fight? I’ll wipe the floor with you, girly. I don’t care how much the master likes your cunt. Traitors don’t last here long.”

My fingers twitch as I hold her unsettling gaze, baring my teeth in response to her snarl.

“Why should I fight you?” I ask with a tight laugh when I notice the quiet spreading around us. The others are watching. “I already defeated you once. Just one little spell, and you slept like a baby. Maybe challenge me again once you learn something.”

The strzyga lunges in my direction with a horrible screech that makes my ears explode with pain. A strange thing happens. When she reaches the shimmering barrier, her body flattens against it like it’s a wall. She can’t leave the duel area.

The mamuna, her ample breasts bound tightly with swathes of white fabric, grabs the strzyga by the hair and tugs her back, her muscular arm burgeoning with strength. The strzyga whirls around and attacks the mamuna, who blasts her in the face with a cloud of dark dust she produces out of thin air.

The strzyga falls to her knees, coughing as she scratches at her eyes.

“We’re not done yet,” the mamuna woman says, winking at me. “Get up, Wera.”

Her long, brown hair is pulled into a mass of tiny braids that are tied into a knot on her nape. Her skin is light brown, eyes tilting at the outer corners. Her entire body is a work of art, each muscle big and chiseled with surgical precision. I could use her to study anatomy for healing.

“Zlotomira had only good things to say about you,” she says before she turns back to the strzyga, who spits at her feet, her wrinkled face red, eyes teary. “You’ll be training with me tomorrow, new girl.”

“Then you’re a traitor, too,” the strzyga snaps, directing her open palm at the mamuna.

A current of light shoots out. The mamuna blocks it with her crossed hands, the light dissipating against metal braces she wears on her forearms.

“That’s Draga,” Lech murmurs while the two fight, the strzyga launching small, cutting spells at the mamuna, who dodges them deftly, fast on her feet despite her burly frame. “She’s one of our best fighters. It seems the master has already arranged your lessons.”

“And the strzyga?” I ask. “Is she important?”

Lech clears his throat. “Wera is one of the master’s oldest followers. She has a lot of sway here, and she’s very… set in her ways. You have nothing to fear, though. She’d never disobey a direct order, and the master made it clear you are to be welcomed and supported. Since he punished you himself, no one else has a right to touch you outside of training.”

I finger the scab that has formed over the ugly wound on my throat. I wish I could make Woland wear one just like it, since I drank as much of his blood as he did mine.

“Set in her ways?” I ask when Draga grips Wera by the arm and throws the strzyga straight into the barrier around their training rectangle, making it pulse with red light. “What does it mean?”

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