Chapter 25
Oleg
Oleg’s blood was moving before his black Land Rover came to a stop at Rudov’s country house. “Thank you, Seban.”
“I’ll park the car and then join the spectators if that’s acceptable.” Seban sounded excited too.
“Absolutely acceptable.” Every vampire and human in the Kievan Rus relished a chaugan match.
Mika’s eyes lit up as he opened Oleg’s car door. “Are you ready?”
“Very ready.” He was still frustrated after his meeting with Tatyana the night before, and he was more than eager to hit something very hard.
A leather ball on a snowy field would have to do.
Of all the pastimes that had amused their sire—wrestling, boxing, sword fights, bear fights, hunting humans—there was really only one that Oleg and his brothers continued on as a tradition in the Kievan Rus.
Chaugan.
Evolved from ancient Persian cavalry training, the precursor to modern polo was rougher, played on a larger field, and in the case of the Kievan Rus, generally held in the winter on snow.
“Did Rudov pick horses yet?”
“I think so. He said it was a draw but…”
Oleg grinned. “It’s never truly a draw.”
His brother Rudov spent a large amount of his time breeding a unique line of Karabair horses he’d originally acquired in Central Asia several centuries before.
He’d crossbred his herd with European Thoroughbreds and other breeds to create an extensive herd of chaugan horses capable of carrying large riders but retaining the innate athleticism of the Karabair breed.
Mika was dressed for the game, as was Oleg, wearing loose-cut sharovary pants made of heavy wool, a long tunic, and a fur-lined kaftan. They both wore tall riding boots that crunched in the snow as they started toward Rudov’s stables on the side of his mansion.
Oleg glanced at the gathering of riders and horses surrounded by large torches in the distance. “Did Rudov pick teams?”
“Yes, and from what I can tell, he’s done a good job of balancing the riders.”
Oleg nodded. “It’s no fun if it’s not even.”
Truvor’s sons could not all be on the same team. They had been playing vicious games of chaugan among themselves for centuries. He knew each of his brothers’ weaknesses and strengths. The game was only fun if there was some uncertainty.
“Tatyana will be captain of one team, and you will be captain of the other.”
Oleg smiled. “Good.”
His wife might be a novice at chaugan, but he knew she would catch on quickly. “How does the field look? I am assuming you sent someone out to spy last night.”
Unlike a normal polo field, which was groomed and carefully leveled, chaugan in the Kievan Rus was played on a massive field that had obstacles put in place by the host, who was almost always Rudov.
None of the obstacles were designed to hurt his precious horses, of course, but there were haystacks and log barriers, water obstacles to be avoided and fences to jump over or go around.
On such a large and varied field, six riders and mounts had room to maneuver but had to work together to score goals.
“Of course I sent out one of my spies.” Mika smiled and took a step back. “But as Rudov has placed me on Tatyana’s team” —he placed a hand over his heart in a loyal gesture— “I will be saving my keen observations for her.”
“Are you joking?” Oleg growled. “You bastard. I will not forget this betrayal.”
“May the best team win.” Mika revealed his bright blue sash and waved it with a flourish before he proceeded to tie it around his head. He tossed a red sash toward Oleg and ran off to join the others with a whoop.
Oleg couldn’t be angry because chaugan was one of the few pastimes that he still enjoyed with his clan. They usually tried to meet at least two or three times each winter to play a match or two at Rudov’s estate.
And they had mostly stopped cutting off a finger from the losing captain after Truvor was dead. Mostly.
There was no elemental power allowed to be used at all in chaugan, though other than that, very few rules were followed. The matches ran for roughly an hour with warm-up teams of humans playing first before the vampire riders took the field.
Immortal players didn’t wear helmets because head injuries were not a real threat. Even a broken spine could heal within a day.
And because of that, the heavy chaugan mallets were often used as much on opposing players as they were on the leather-covered ball—the pul—used to score points.
Oleg walked into the hubbub of the prematch stable yard, looking for his assigned groom. “If anyone even thinks about using their hammer on my bride,” he shouted, “I’ll take their head off myself.”
The only response was a scattering of amused chuckles.
“Do you have so little faith in me, Lord Oleg?”
Oleg looked to the right and saw Tatyana mounted on a beautiful mare with speckled hindquarters. She wore an azure sash tied around her fur-trimmed cap, a pale kaftan with green embroidery, and her icy blue eyes flashed with amusement.
He put a hand on her mare’s neck, patting the soft coat of the animal, and reached his hand out. She extended her arm, and Oleg took her hand. He kissed her knuckles, letting his lips provoke a spark on her skin.
“I have every confidence in you, my lady.”
Mika came riding up with a cocky grin.
Oleg narrowed his eyes at Mika. “Especially as you have poached one of the best riders for your team.”
Mika leaned over to Tatyana. “Tell him nothing, surati. Show no weakness. I will show you how chaugan must be played with this one.”
The corner of her mouth turned up, and it appeared that she might even be having fun.
“Lord Oleg?” A deep voice called his name.
He turned and saw his groom waiting, then turned back to Tatyana and Mika. “I see how you array against me, but I will still be victorious. I will see you on the field.”
Mika laughed at his back, but Oleg walked over quickly to the older man who was tying up his horse’s black tail with an elaborate ceremonial braid.
“Wait. Is this…” Oleg looked away from his groom and finally met the eye of his starting mount. “You.”
The animal tossed his head and snorted.
Rudov came up to Oleg, leading his favorite mare, Leila, and slapped Oleg’s shoulder. “I see you and Baraz meet again.”
He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “This is not chance.”
“I am telling you, the horses were chosen in a draw, and you know he is only one of four.” Rudov threw up his hands. “The gods want you and Baraz to become friends.”
Because of the intensity of the match, each ten-minute period—a chukka—their horses would be swapped out, which was part of the reason that Rudov had bred such a massive herd. One chaugan match would entail the work of nearly fifty chaugan mounts.
Rudov added, “He’s one of the strongest horses in the herd.”
“If you mean the hardest-headed, you are correct.” Oleg walked over and placed the soft braided saddle pad on his horse’s back. “You did this on purpose.”
Baraz tossed his head and snorted again, clearly as excited to see Oleg as Oleg was to see him.
Rudov patted Leila’s soft cheek. “I think you two are perfect for each other.” Rudov’s horse whinnied. She was likely in on the joke.
Oleg’s groom placed the wide, flat leather saddle on the horse’s back, securing it to the animal as Oleg observed.
“Fuck off,” Oleg said to Rudov. “You took that horse’s balls, and I’m convinced he blames me for it.”
“I made an exception to the draw for your bride and gave her Golshan as her starting mount,” Rudov said. “I understand she’s a newer rider.”
“Of course you give me your most ornery gelding and give Tatyana your cleverest mare.” Oleg’s groom nodded at him, so he walked over and mounted his equine nemesis. “Let me guess, you’ve put yourself on Tatyana’s team as well.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Rudov said. “I put Mika, Pavel, and Lev on her team, and she has two of her own people as well. You get Lazlo, Ivan, and Oksana along with two Poshani players who offered to join. The Poshani players are wild cards, of course.”
That was… actually quite even.
“And what about you?”
Rudov swung up on Leila and tied a white sash around his fur cap. “I am the referee, of course.”
“Since when do we play with rules?”
“Since we have guests.” Rudov spread his arms. “Didn’t you realize, Knyaz? The vampires of the Kievan Rus have arrived.”
Oleg rode out of the stables, scanning past the torchlight that lit the stable yard to see the company of immortals that had gathered on Rudov’s estate to witness the game.
They had been trickling in from across the region over the past month, but now the wedding was only a week away, and Oleg could see that clans of his empire had finally come in number.
As Oleg rode out, nodding at each group as he passed them on the way to the field, he couldn’t help but see an army mustered for war. It had been decades since he had seen such a mass of his people brought together, and the sheer force of their numbers impressed even him.
In addition to his black-coated boyars and personal druzhina, there were immortal warriors from his territory in Ukraine crowding the sidelines and wearing the blue and gold colors of their homeland.
Red-coated Muscovite vampires from central Russia gathered around his brother Ivan. They were cheering and chanting a song that sent a chill up Oleg’s spine. One of Truvor’s favorite battle songs, of course.
He saw Mika’s men and women gathered from Estonia, fewer in number but lethally effective water vampires with silver-and-blue coats and quiet, watchful expressions.
Lidik’s small clan of wind vampires was gathered around their governor, mixed with a few earth vampires from the northern territories. Lidik’s wind vampires observed the prematch preparations from the sky overhead, nearly invisible in their light-blue-and-white coats.
Oleg’s brother Lev had brought a few of his children, scattered immortals from the Arctic stretches of the Kievan Rus. They looked out of place with all the formality, but they blended in with the forest in their deep green coats.