Chapter 17 Savior
Chapter seventeen
Savior
Pride and jealousy swell in my chest when I see Chors’ first reaction is to protect Jaga from the heat.
He throws his shields of silvery, cool magic in front of her as the rarog shoots fire with a horrid screech.
It lasts a few seconds, and the flames shrink, becoming a bird-shaped inferno in the sky.
The upierzycas, which hid behind the rarog so as not to be burned, dive at the cliff.
I am Weles now, and just as well. With a long-suffering sigh, I throw away my cover of shadows. I was going to pretend I didn’t follow them here, because even I know how pathetic it is.
But I can’t very well let them burn.
“Father,” Chors says with a reproachful sigh. “I should have known.”
“Yes. Duck.”
An upierzyca throws a missile of some kind, and it flies just over Chors’ head when he drops into a low crouch. I catch it with a tendril of my shadow, instantly recognizing the poisonous spell it's infused with.
“Careful. Acid.”
Jaga throws me a furious glare and turns back to the sea, raising her arms high.
“We don’t need you. Go away.”
I fold my arms on my chest, smiling despite myself. My foolhardy witch. She was always like this, insisting on handling everything on her own. She wanted to defeat all evil with her puny mortal hands, and it’s one of the things that made me fall so hard for her.
It makes me want to carry her burdens. Just for spite, probably. I know she hates it.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Jaga, dear. You have allies.”
She screams, and rivulets of water rise out of the sea, silvery streams flowing up into the sky.
They splash the rarog, which screeches madly, its flames dimming.
But it only takes a moment before the fire bird avoids the attack, swerving and rolling in the air until Jaga has to release the spell.
She pants heavily, and I nod with approval.
“You haven’t reached for your soul magic yet. That was impressive.”
“Go away!”
“I’d rather he stays,” Chors says seriously, jumping high with a grunt of effort.
He hovers seven feet over the ground, suspended, until the first upierzyca slams into him.
They roll through the air together, feathers flying, claws flashing.
My son fights with his bare hands, making himself as hard as moonstone.
Another upierzyca attacks Jaga. My witch chants under her breath, and stones tear away from the face of the cliff, hurtling at the bird bies.
Two find their mark, and the upierzyca disappears below the cliff.
Three more are here to take her place. The rarog circles closer, feeling safe now that Jaga’s occupied.
“Need me yet?” I ask with a smirk.
I have just enough self-awareness to realize how I behave. That was such a Woland thing to say. She brings out the worst in me.
“Never!”
Acid-infused stones fly her way just as the rarog prepares for another round of fire vomit. I push away from the ground, rising high into the air, and place myself right in front of it.
“Hello, Swarog,” I say pleasantly. “And goodbye.”
I smother the fire bird in an avalanche of shadows, pouring in more and more to douse its flames and force it to retreat.
My power is weak, though. Jaga’s torture depleted me, and I curse under my breath, calling my shadows back.
The rarog still flames. As soon as my magic pulls back, its fire roars higher.
“Fuck it to Wyraj and back,” I spit, retreating back to the cliff.
Jaga fights two upierzycas, while Chors engages the third. He must have dealt with his earlier foe and took on one of Jaga’s. Both of them repel the attacks of acid-bathed stones. The upierzycas got smarter, relying on long-distance offense rather than hand-to-hand combat.
“The rarog’s still here,” Chors pants, throwing up a silver shield to stop a volley of stones.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I taunt him with the endearment Jaga used. “Your former lover has exhausted me somewhat. Forgive me.”
“You deserved it,” Jaga hisses, dropping her shields.
I cry out, throwing myself in her direction, my shadows unfurling to reach her.
I’m too late. The stones hit her. Or—they almost do.
At the last moment, a fiery door opens in front of her.
I’ve seen the same trick before, when she fought Wera.
The upierzycas squawk and flutter, confused, and neither notices the magical doorway opening behind them.
They are pelted with their own missiles. One survives, screeching madly from pain as the acid burns her feathers. The other drops into the sea, either concussed or dead.
“That was perfect, love,” I say proudly. “So powerful. Your soul is fucking gorgeous.”
Jaga growls with helpless fury, throwing her hands out. She pulls water from the sea again, and this time, the familiar look of effort paints her face. Chors shouts out in alarm, and I nod. Yes. I see. But this time, I know exactly what to do when she exhausts herself again.
“Do it,” I whisper. “Burn out. I’ll breathe into you again, and it will grow even bigger. Even more stunning.”
Water splashes the rarog. It screeches, evading, and Jaga follows it, jets of seawater spraying into the fire-lit sky. She manages to extinguish one of its wings, and the creature spins miserably down, its flaming wing fluttering in desperation.
“Fucking stunning,” I whisper in awe. “Nyja tried that, you know. But she didn’t have your control, only raw power. How are you this controlled, love?”
Jaga drops to her knees. She closes her eyes, pressing both hands into the cool grass for grounding. She breathes deeply, while the rarog rights itself, its maimed wing on fire again. It rises higher than we can reach and vomits a stream of flames our way.
A wall of water rises from the sea. Jaga whispers under her breath, her mutterings impossible to understand. Fire meets water, and the translucent wall shielding us becomes illuminated with golden flames. It’s amber and rubies, and I sigh softly, charmed.
I am so old that beauty rarely takes me aback. This does. It’s glorious.
“What are you doing?” Chors hisses, gesturing at my witch. “She’ll burn out!”
I nod with a slow smile. “Yes, son. But that’s what she wants. Unlike most men, I don’t mind letting a woman fight my battles. There’s nothing demeaning about that.”
He groans with impatience, leaping high into the sky.
There are no more upierzycas, only the rarog, as strong as ever.
Jaga screams, and her shield of water evaporates from the heat a second after the fiery assault ends.
Chors sends ropes of silvery moonlight at the bird, binding its wings.
If it drops into the sea, its magic will burn out fast as it fights to stay alive.
“Swarog’s flames can’t really be extinguished with water, only dimmed,” I whisper in Jaga’s ear after dropping to my knees behind her.
“If it submerges, it will have to go back to Wyraj. I can force it to leave with my shadows, too. Say, would you mind sharing your magic with me? Through sex is best, but holding hands works in a pinch.”
Her hands are braced on her thighs as she pants from effort, shivers wracking her body.
When I’m done speaking, she lifts her head slowly, just in time to see the rarog release a whip of hot flame.
It reaches Chors, burning a gash across his side.
My son hisses and falls away, his chains of silver weakening. The rarog shakes them off.
“No.”
She tries to heave herself to her feet but fails, dropping back down with a frustrated grunt.
“I suppose we should run and get Nyja to fight him for us. But look. Chors still fights. He’ll be badly burned.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she grits out, sending a rope of almost-shadow, a weak emulation of mine, at the flaming bird. It does nothing, of course. Jaga does not know true darkness, the kind that swallowed everything before we made light. She’ll never create a perfect shadow.
“Yes, because you’re making the wrong choice. Come on, poppy girl. All you have to do is hold my hand and give me some of your magic. I gave you mine plenty of times.”
She hesitates. Chors has the rarog bound again. The bird screeches, its flames struggling against the chains. Chors wipes his sweaty brow with a shaking hand, and I can tell he’s at his limit.
“Fine.”
I shiver when Jaga’s small, cold hand winds through mine. It’s her right, the same one that handled my heart. My fingers spasm at the memory, squeezing hers tighter.
“What now?”
I focus, feeling for the edges of her magic, for her soul. She guards it tightly.
Yes, I could suck out her magic through force. I’ve done it in the past. But the point isn’t to master Jaga and make her obey. I want her trust, her love, her heart, all of her. And that, just like her soul, must be willingly given.
“I need you to drop your shields. Let go. It’s all right.”
Her laughter is hollow and biting. Grudgingly, she opens herself. Some pieces of her armor fall away, giving me glimpses of the unnatural landscape within, her magic, her soul, her being, all knotted and strange. It’s a horrid mess I badly want to help her untangle.
“More,” I whisper.
“I’m trying!”
“Too slow.”
Chors cries out when a tongue of flame wraps around his throat. For a breathtaking moment, his face is illuminated with gold and red, then he plummets into the sea. I growl. My son is in danger, and Jaga’s next in line.
I force my way into her, shadows pouring in through cracks in her armor. She screams, her spine snapping into a taut arch. I pull and pull, feeding myself her raw power straight from the source. Already, I am stronger, and my body hums with euphoria. There was never a thing more right than this.
She, inside me. Her moans of pleasure tell me she enjoys it as much as I do.