Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Dearest
I tear my eyes away from his odious face that’s young and old at once, surrounded by a mane of golden hair shot with silver. Time has been kind to Perun, as was sucking the world dry of magic for his own gain.
My heart sinks when I see Jaga. She is wrapped in magical chains that hang from the lowest branches of the Great Oak, her arms stretched up, her mouth gagged. She struggles, her magic flailing around her with hot, red bursts, but she doesn’t have enough to make a difference.
Fuck, I never should have let her free the souls.
There are shouts behind me and sounds of fighting.
I turn my head with effort, seeing Chors fighting with Dadzbog from the corner of my eye.
Nyja throws spells at Swarog, fierce and powerful as always.
They are an even match. The King of Bees wrestles with the rarog, but he’s not as strong as when he fought Dadzbog in the fall.
He’s losing, his insects burning to ash.
Strzybog and Jutrzenka stand aside. My heart plummets when I realize they were never on my side to begin with. Jutrzenka claps and bounces, giggling as she watches the show, and when our eyes meet, her lips stretch in a mean, cruel smile that looks eerie on her innocent, girly face.
“You unfaithful dog,” Perun says, and ropes of lightning wrap around the god of wind.
Strzybog cries out in pain as his father drags him closer. “No, Father! I meant to spy for you! I was ready to come with news!”
“That’s a pathetic lie,” Perun hisses, bringing Strzybog’s face close until they are nose to nose. “If you were truly loyal, you would have told me about this stupid plot, like Jutrzenka did. She will be elevated, while you will rot with them all.”
“No, Father, I promise! I have so much information on Nawie, hidden things, sources of power and magic! I will show you all of them, please!”
I cringe, because there is so much terror in Strzybog’s voice. He is such a strong, carefree god, but his own father makes him almost piss himself with a look and a few words.
At least he was truly on our side until the end. I don’t begrudge him this. Strzybog always went where the wind blew, and it’s a survival strategy that’s served him well.
Jaga cries out into her gag, and I forget all about Strzybog and the fight happening behind me. My girl is suffering.
I try to kick away the roots stealing my magic, but there is no room to move.
I sting them with my poisons, the little that I have left, and they recoil for a moment, only to come back angrier and more violent.
They climb up my calves and pierce my skin with thorns, sticking for good.
My magic pours out in a nauseatingly fast torrent, sucked out of me until I gasp for air, completely dry.
Jaga struggles, but she’s lost, too. How I wish for the bond right now. We could try to make a plan, or at least speak to each other, but she tore me out of her mind like a weed.
A scorching hot palm lands on my shoulder, and I hiss. Dadzbog crouches behind me, and I know what it means. Chors was defeated.
“Good to see you, uncle. Thank you for bringing my cousin. I don’t think you’ll see him ever again, so I’m letting you know he’ll be in good hands—mine.”
He laughs with good cheer, standing up. My skin steams from the burn of his hand, unhealed, as Dadzbog walks away.
Chors follows, a collar made of blinding, hot light tight around his neck, tied to a chain.
Dadzbog holds the other end. My son is gagged, and his eyes are filled with pain as they briefly lock with mine.
Nyja is still fighting, screaming in rage every time she delivers a well-aimed attack. Swarog roars with pain, and I twist my neck further to watch.
“Nyja, look up!”
The rarog descends on her from the sky, its wings of scorching flame beating the air.
The King of Bees is but a pile of burned insects, and the flaming bird returns to its master.
Together, they attack Nyja with burning ropes of flame, and she shields herself with a cloak of starlit darkness, falling to her knees from effort.
They rain more and more fire, and she screams, holes appearing in her protection, tiny at first, their edges red hot like embers.
Her cloak crumbles to dust, and she’s engulfed in flame. I send my shadows her way, but they dissolve into nothing. I have no magic left.
Swarog and the rarog pull back, their flames extinguished, only Swarog’s enormous hands enveloped in balls of fire.
Nyja shakes, her entire body steaming, but she heals slowly.
She’s done, though. When chains bind her wrists, a collar around her neck, she gets up with effort and spits at Swarog in rage.
He backhands her easily, burning her cheek and eye. I turn around, back to Jaga, facing my defeat.
It’s strange, but I am no longer afraid. The worst has happened already, and I take in Perun’s gleeful smile with acceptance that’s almost serenity.
Jaga stands, restrained next to the trunk, close to my former prison.
Chors kneels in the grass nearby, his bound hands wrapped around the burning collar to ease its pressure on his neck.
Nyja joins him in a moment, pulled closer by Swarog, and a troop of dragons drags in Rod and his daughters, who are forced to their knees by Nyja’s side.
Strzybog is free as far as I can tell, but his shoulders slump in defeat, his face tense and closed off. I don’t expect him to offer us help, not that he has even the smallest chance of being successful.
“Your wife needs assistance,” one of the dragons says, saluting Perun. “She was deprived of magic and badly damaged.”
Perun waves his hand. “I don’t care for her dramatics right now. Leave her where she is.”
I snort under my breath, and his triumphant gaze cuts to me. “Do you find it funny, brother? Have you gotten used to defeat so well, it makes you laugh?”
I shake my head, still grinning, because now that the fear is gone, I suddenly feel free, more free than I’ve been in centuries. I’ve waited to be back here all those years. In a way, it was as if I’d never left.
“It’s funny that we have something in common,” I say.
“This is your moment, and you should enjoy it to the fullest. Mokosz would try to make it all about herself, so I agree that you shouldn’t revive her.
She’s insufferable. Of course, I’m not the idiot who made her my wife. Accept my heartfelt sympathy.”
Perun’s eyes narrow in rage. I chuckle under my breath, knowing he’ll torture me now, but even this fails to rouse my terror. Perun is an old dog who can’t learn new tricks. Like everything about him, his torture methods are boring. Jaga was so much worse. I can withstand him.
“See if you’ll laugh now.”
My brother doesn’t take a step toward me.
He turns to Jaga, and my grin freezes on my face as a new fear, sickening and urgent, twists around my heart.
Perun grabs her by the hair, baring her throat, and spits lightning right into her chest. For an eyeblink, Jaga is lit from within, the outlines of her sternum and ribs dark against the brightness.
She spasms, a ragdoll in the grip of his power.
It ends within seconds, and she hangs limp in her chains, her arms pulled painfully up. Her entire body steams from the surge of heat, and she shakes all over, muffled, incomprehensible moans of pain pouring out through the gag.
Perun gives me a sly, triumphant look. He was right. I’m not laughing anymore.
“Come on, little brother. Make another joke. Let’s laugh together.”
I grit my teeth and stay silent. It doesn’t matter that I’m not afraid for myself anymore, because this fear for Jaga is all consuming and sickly, and so much worse. A chasm of helplessness opens in my mind. It seems like the only escape is death.
But if Jaga dies, she will be gone forever, no soul left to revive, nothing. And I could die, too, according to Nyja’s prophecy, but only if Perun wields the blade from the past. I’ll never allow it to happen. I’d rather suffer for eternity than die from his hand.
Perun grins at me, strolling slowly in front of Jaga. He looks from her to me, thinking, while my allies writhe in pain, defeated, shackled, void of magic. Jutrzenka saunters up to Perun, her steps dancelike and carefree.
“Daddy, bury her! Bury her somewhere no one will find her and give him to me, like you promised.”
She pants, watching Jaga with excitement. I shake my head in regret. Jaga was right all along. A scorned woman is a dangerous beast, but I was arrogant and thought a few smiles would make Jutrzenka loyal and happy to be on my side.
She fooled me. I trusted her too much ever since she helped so eagerly to distract Perun while we took down his temple. I suppose that was calculated, too. Or maybe she defected back to him later. Not that it matters.
Perun shakes his head, tugging on his silver beard. “Ah, not yet. We cannot get rid of an important asset, my darling. This woman is supposed to give the ultimate victory to whoever claims her.”
I laugh without mirth, shaking my head. “She’ll never let you claim her.”
Perun clicks his tongue, giving me a scornful look.
“It’s no surprise that you’ve failed at that, since you can’t do anything right. I won’t fail. Now, to make sure we have no ugly surprises…”
He presses his hand to Jaga’s mouth. White light flashes between them, and she releases a pitiful, squalling noise in the back of her throat. Perun laughs, patting her cheek with mock friendliness.
“Cheer up. You won’t have to be gagged anymore, because I’ve made you unable to say any god’s name but mine. Try. Give yourself to Weles.”
He removes the gag from her mouth. Jaga finds her feet and stands shakily to give her arms some rest. She lifts her head with difficulty and gives Perun a haughty, hate-filled look.
“I belong to W… to W…”
Perun laughs with satisfaction, and Jaga heaves a trembling breath, lowering her head.
“It’s just as well. I will not be claimed. Ever.”
He rears back in mild surprise. “No? Not even by me? I can promise you power and riches. Nawie could be yours. I am generous to those who are loyal to me. Be mine, and I will reward you.”
She huffs with a grimace. “I’m done being the gods’ plaything. But you don’t need me, anyway. You’ve already won.”
Perun steps back, watching her with a dark frown. At last, he nods, his face smoothing. “No, I don’t need you.”
Jaga, previously so tense, slumps in her ropes. Perun grins and points both hands at her belly, palms open. Currents of lightning shoot out, endless and powerful, violently jerking her body. I trap a scream of rage behind my teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
He knows, anyway. He looks at me, his eyes twinkling while he fries my dearest with his magic. I finally understand how it will be, and my heart breaks.
Perun ends the flow of lightning, and Jaga hangs there, shivers wracking her frame. She’s unconscious, and he shoots a short burst of healing magic into her until she awakens with a start, a high-pitched, horrible sound of pure suffering emitting from her throat.
It’s the strangest tableau. Jaga in the center, her tortured body hanging by her lifted arms, with Perun and his gods on her right hand. My allies are gathered on the other side, guarded by the dragons, and I am opposite her, having the best view of her agony.
“Say you belong to me and I’ll never make it hurt like this again,” Perun says pleasantly, coming over to her.
She shakes harder, sobbing, and he puts a finger under her chin, lifting her head. “There, there. It’s easy. Just a few words and you’ll be free.”
He waits, watching her, and Jaga watches back, helpless and destroyed, this woman whom I took for a goddess debased and weak. She looks defeated. She looks like she will give in.
“Weles!” Nyja cries out, pain and fear in her voice. “You must kill her! Only you can do it! Please! Don’t let—”
She breaks off when a dragon, one of the dozen guarding my allies, backhands her mouth. Her head snaps back, and she falls, landing on her hands bound behind her back. Strzybog jerks, his hands clenching into fists, but he stays put.
“Kill her?” Perun asks, turning to me. “My wife said you made this girl immortal. Was she lying?”
I shake my head. Perun turns back to Jaga, watching her closely while she gasps for breath, still shaking from the latest torment. He clicks his tongue with annoyance and presses his hand to her forehead. I want to look away, knowing exactly what will happen, but I can’t. I owe it to her.
To bear witness.
And, more importantly, to take her life before she breaks, allowing her to remain free—and giving a chance to my cause.
If Perun forces her to give him her allegiance, it will be over. And I cannot let that happen.