In this case, knowledge won, but Zhanna was unable to shrug off the feeling of impending disaster. Joining her, Dascha remarked, << I am very worried about that prophecy and TT. It has all the stink of someone interfering in our lives. >>

  << Again. >>

  << Yes, again. >>

  With extreme reluctance, the young Witch walked away from her grandmother and out to the path that would take her back to her house. Her black cat Familiar walked beside her silently, both of them lost in their thoughts.

  Zhanna’s were filled with foreboding and worry about something that would come crashing down on them when they least expected it. She knew that she could not travel back to Earth. Her homeworld was lost to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. On the other hand, the young Witch was reluctant to see others put themselves in danger in her stead.

  << Zhanna, please do not be so hard on yourself. You know there is no way for us to go and help anyone with anything on Earth. All we can do is work with our challenges here. We have to keep positive about the whole thing, even though we are not happy about it! >>

  << I know, Dascha. But I wish there was something I could do. I feel so useless and pitiful. >>

  << Well… I thought of something, but I am not too sure how doable it is, or if it will make you happy. >>

  << What? If there is anything I can do to help the rescue parties that are supposed to grab more people on Earth and bring them here, you know I would help. >>

  << I know you are learning how to make items that have spells stored in them. Perhaps you could practice with things that even a cat could use on a dangerous trip. That would be something that would satisfy your need to help and let TT or Jack be better armed in a fight against the evil Blood Mages.>>

  << What a great idea! Let us figure out a few spells that you think would be useful, and when we go for our tutoring session tomorrow, we can check with whoever has teaching duty. Perhaps we can start to create something that would be useful for those going on rescue missions! You are right that if we can provide that to the travelers, I will be much happier!>>

  Feeling much better, the Witch and her Familiar began to brainstorm on the different things that might be stored in a small object. Knowing that she was going to be able to be useful after all, Zhanna relaxed and put her creative energy to good use.

  The two of them talked all the way through supper, trying to come up with a decent list and a good idea of what they thought would be helpful so that Zhanna’s inquiries could be effective. By dessert, they had a list of five items that they thought fit the requirements. The two of them happily agreed that the items would be useful both in the short term and for general exploration.

  Zhanna wondered to herself if the items on her list would be something to keep stocked and ready for anyone who was going out exploring. That is another thing I need to remember to ask my instructor tomorrow. The young Witch felt her spirits rise in a small wave of satisfaction and focus. She had realized it would be tough to give up always being an actor in any confrontation or battle, but she had not realized how frustrated she would feel when others went off into danger, leaving her in a safe place. Even now, her stomach roiled in tension, and her heartbeat kept doing strange syncopation with nervousness and regret.

  Her evening meal was complete, and the young Witch was facing the least favorite part of her day. This was the time that she and her Baba had always enjoyed each other’s company, but usually spent it in companionable silence or relaxed conversation. In the quiet of the evening, the young woman and her grandmother would sit by the fire, or out on the porch, working on the never-ending chores that seem to accompany life. Mending, knitting, or some other task occupied their hands, while they entertained each other with experiences of the day or stories that they had heard or made up.

  The young woman knew that she had an unusually close and caring relationship with her beloved grandmother. For many years she had thought it was merely because her Baba had taken them in when her parents had died but had since learned otherwise to her pleasure.

  It took several years, but Zhanna had come to believe the pleasure they took in each other’s company stemmed from commonality of viewpoint and a genuine liking for the people that they were. The comfort of the evenings they had sat next to each other, working and talking, had been something she looked forward to every day, and she missed it sorely now.

  Unsure of what to do by herself in the evening, the young Witch decided to climb the stairs to her second-floor bedroom suite. She thought to herself, I feel like I am rattling around in this huge place. I still do not know why I have to live in this fancy house. It is not like there are lots of people living with me or that I have a lot of things going on in the evening.

  Halfway up the stairs, Zhanna was taken unaware by a massive blow to her head. She could feel her knees buckle and knew that she was falling. Unable to stop herself and clueless as to where the attack was coming from, the young Witch mentally screamed, << Dascha! >>

  Before her Familiar could make any response, Zhanna felt as if she were caught in the grasp of a massive current, twirled around until she was dizzy and disoriented, before being sucked down into the depths of a strange river. Inundated by images and feeling like she could not breathe, the young woman struggled to make sense of what was going on.

  Attempting to move her arms as if she were swimming, Zhanna fought to the surface of the blinding blur of fragmented terrifying images and truncated sounds of fear and despair. Desperately trying to breathe, the young Witch attempted to yell for help, but no sound emerged from her throat. Her body spinning around repeatedly, the woman focused on survival rather than control.

  Taking deep breaths where she could, the Witch heard the roar of a waterfall ahead of her and tried desperately to swim to the misty bank that she could barely see. She had taken no more than two frantic strokes when her world dropped out from underneath her, and she was falling. More flashing images, things that had occurred in her life raced past her leaving her even more confused as she smashed into a painfully solid object.

  Agonizing pain radiated through every part of her body before she was mercifully sucked down toward unconsciousness. Darkness descended on her mind as her tenuous hold on awareness slipped.

  Just as she was losing all contact with her life, she heard a voice screaming for her, calling out in fear and love, << Zhanna! Do not leave me! >> Clinging to the sound and its return sense of love and commitment, the Witch held on for just a moment longer, clinging to a shred of awareness with fingertips of desperation.

  There was a strong pull that seemed anchored around her heart, and the young Witch felt her spirit being ripped away from a dangerous pit by claws of determination sunk deeply into her soul. Tumbling through a whirling mass of blood-soaked images, Zhanna felt her essence as it landed safely in the warm embrace of her Familiar.

  Before losing her tenuous hold on consciousness, Zhanna’s last thought was, I am still here. I will always be here for you until the Flames take me back.

  Chapter 3 – No Place at Home

  Yarorbash Village, Earth

  Numbly, the men wandered around the pitted streets, unable to take in the enormity of the disaster that had occurred. Blackened timbers and crushed walls defaced every building that was even partially standing. The smell of old smoke clogged their nostrils and made them choke on the contaminated air they were forced to breathe.

  At one point, a plume of ash had risen in the air, and the entire group of men had charged over in the hope that someone or something was still alive. Smashing their way through the debris that had fallen over the doorway, they arrived wide-eyed and adrenaline-powered only to find that a weakened beam had finally collapsed, raising a small cloud of the fine ash that filled the room.

  One of the men had tripped, catching himself against the carcass of what had been a cabinet. Looking down to see what he had stepped on, the man collapsed to his knees sobbing as he tried to gently gather the bones of the small skeleton that he had disturbed. Two of his teammates helped him to rise, their own faces riven with grief and helpless fury.

  The three of them carried their tiny burden out into the shattered square with the contaminated and ruined fountain. The weeping mercenaries laid the remains of another one of their friends and family at the end of the heartbreaking line of corpses and skeletons.

  Motioning the men to join him by one of the vehicles they had used to return home, Peotr Tesorov rubbed his face fiercely, as if he could scrub his own tear tracks from not only his skin but his soul. Looking around at the twenty shocked and grieving faces of his men, the Mercenary Witch Commander said, “There is no sign of conventional weapons being used in the destruction of Yarorbash. As far as we can tell, the carnage here was all done with Magic.”

  “At least your father, Mayor Nikolai, fought back rather than being slaughtered. The half-melted grenade launcher was fused to his bones. Most of the others were helpless,” growled Boris, Peotr’s second-in-command.

  “Rolan and I found this close by the group of skeletons in the desecrated church,” offered Casimir in an angry, deadened tone. His hand noticeably shaking, the ordinarily phlegmatic mercenary handed Peotr an object wrapped in shielding cloth. The Commander raised his eyebrows at the atypical treatment, but trusting his men, he laid the bundled item down and carefully unwrapped it, using the tip of his dagger.

  As the last layer of concealment slid off the item, Peotr drew back suddenly with a horrified expression on his face and his gasping breath ripping a sharp line through his chest. Staring as if he could not believe what he was seeing, the man cried out in rage, “Blood Mages! No wonder the village had no protection, no way to fight back. My father may have deliberately fought so that they had to kill him. At least, they did not get to torture him to death.”

  Boris crowded in and covered the malevolent-looking amulet once again. His eyes met Peotr’s, and their gaze clung for a moment as a conversation only possible between old friends occurred. Taking a deep breath, the Commander turned to his men and said, “It is possible that moving the amulet has notified the Blood Mages that we are here. We need to do what we can for the remains of our loved ones. Unfortunately, we also need to leave as soon as possible. There is no point in adding to the power that they derived from the pain and suffering the Blood Mages caused here.”

  Without more discussion, the men moved in different directions with a purposeful posture and shuttered expressions. Peotr felt a little bit at a loss as he saw that most of the men had paired up. I can certainly understand why they feel safer with someone to watch their backs, he thought to himself. Father, I wish I could have seen you and Mother one more time. I am proud of you for fighting back, even if you did not win. We will do the same, although I do not know where to take everyone to keep them from becoming more sacrifices.

  Boris came charging up to Peotr, startling the Commander out of his sad and morbid thoughts. The big man almost shouted, “Bolormaa! We forgot about Bolormaa! I ran over there to see if she was dead also. I also wondered if Zhanna had returned. You have to come and see their house! Hurry!”

  Peotr had never seen his longtime friend be this excited. The big man was practically dragging him by the arm toward the end of the village in which Bolormaa had lived the whole time she had been part of the community.

  The spectacle of a huge bushy-bearded man nearly seven feet tall dragging his relatively small six-foot two-inch Commander through the broken rubble drew attention from anyone that they passed. Pretty soon, they had almost a parade of people hurtling after Boris. Peotr had given up resisting his friend, so they moved quickly.

  Coming to the last twist of the pathway before Bolormaa’s cottage, the mercenary Commander was sickened as he saw the destruction of the plants and trees that led up to the sharp turn. Withered branches and ashy spots on the plants told the experienced Witch that the Blood Mages had drained energy even out of the vegetation.

  Dreading what he was likely to see at the old Seer’s home, Peotr was shocked into immobility when he got his first unobstructed look at Bolormaa’s old cottage and garden. Almost shaking in disbelief, Peotr could not move for nearly a minute.

  Behind him, the mercenary Commander could hear the gasping breaths of his men. No one said anything or moved, frozen as if they had been stricken with a silence and immobility spell.

  Boris had dropped his grip on Peotr’s arm and stood as silently as the rest of their force. Carefully, and oh so slowly, the military Commander took a deep breath to steel himself for possible pain and took the two steps that brought him up to the edge of Bolormaa’s land. When nothing attacked him, he felt his skin ruffle with relief, even though the hair on the back of his neck was warning him of the uncanny situation.

  For an instant, Peotr just stared in astonishment at the different land under his feet, comparing it to that only a foot closer to the house. Casimir’s voice whispered loudly enough for him to hear, “Why is everything inside the circle free from the destruction and the taint of the Blood Mages?”

  Shaking with a tense braided cord of anger and hope so severely that he did not want to even attempt to speak, Peotr dredged up his courage and took a step forward. From the muffled cries of warning, his men expected something horrible to happen to their Commander. Peotr was not sure what would occur. Although he was frightened, the man refused to let that deter him.

  However, Peotr also knew that they needed information and some way of protecting themselves from the Blood Mages. If Bolormaa’s house had some form of protection, he needed it for his men. This was something he could do. It was his responsibility to care for his men, and so he took action, overwriting his fear and battling against the seductive sweetness of thinking perhaps someone that he cared about had survived.

  Praying in a way that he had not done since he been a boy, Peotr placed his foot inside the green and thriving grass that grew around the garden fence. Tensed for an attack of some form, Peotr almost collapsed in relief as nothing happened. The man took another two steps forward, and he was at the closed gate that completed the fenced enclosure.

  Almost absently, Peotr thought of the times he had come to visit Zhanna’s brother Igor, wondering if by chance he was going to run into the warmhearted Seer or the intriguing little sister. A pang of grief touched him as he remembered hearing that Igor had been killed while out on a contract.

  I should have taken a few days and come back. Igor was my best friend growing up, and I could not even be bothered to return and help with the many things that need to be done when one of our mercenaries dies. That was a horrible thing to do to people that I care about.

  Forcing his unruly mind back into focus, Peotr put his hand out and touched the gate. Expecting to be attacked by a protective spell, the mercenary Commander was shocked when the gate swung smoothly open at the first brush of his hand. Still shaking, he took another step forward.

  When nothing attacked, Boris spoke up, startling Peotr so much that he jumped in the air and spun around to stare at his friend. The big man rumbled, “Do you think it would be okay for us to come in there also? This area where we are standing is making the back of my neck itch.”

  “You and three others come in and stand on the grassy area that is outside the fence first to make sure that nothing happens. If that works, then the rest of you can move on to the grass. Then slowly move inside the gate a few at a time,” Peotr ordered.

  Boris and three of the mercenaries at the front of the crowd immediately stepped onto the grass. The mercenary Commander could see the relief in their faces as they stood on something that felt untainted. In just a few moments, all of his men were clear of the drained and damaged forest area.

  Slowly, Peotr began to advance toward the house. Something comforting in the atmosphere was seeping into Peotr’s body and mind. Each step he took closer to the cottage made him feel stronger and more in control of his emotions.

  Finally, he was at the base of the steps that led to the porch. As he took his first step onto the stone and wood stairs, he felt the warm presence of Boris behind him. Knowing that someone had his back, the mercenary Commander straightened his spine and calmly climbed the stairs at a measured pace and walked over to the closed door.

  Nothing attacked, and there was no taint of any evil Magic on either the structure or in the air. Peotr could not stop a small sigh of relief, and the tension in his shoulders settled out just a little more. Raising his hand and pausing for a split second, the mercenary Commander politely knocked on the door.

  His knock was gentle and definitely not forceful, but the door swung open as if someone had been waiting for him. The muttering from the rest of his forces told the mercenary Commander that his men were spooked but relieved. Thinking to himself in amusement, Peotr realized, They do not understand a spell that would do anything like this, but they are just glad to be someplace that has not been sacrificed to the energy-sucking Blood Mages.

  Feeling more confident, Peotr walked into the house, calling out, “Hello, is anyone home?” He did not expect a response since he was convinced the Bolormaa was long gone. The experienced mercenary thought that perhaps someone else was staying in the cottage or that for some reason, Bolormaa was still here. Either way, he desperately wanted to know how this one building had come through the depredations of the Blood Mages intact.

  The very last thing that he expected to see was two small children with tears-stained faces huddled next to what appeared to be a little moving pile of fur. Even less did he expect to have a creature out of legend pop up directly in front of him, and demand, “Are you here to help? If not, leave! I thought I was going to have a nice quiet death, and now I have babies to tend. I know where to go, but I need help getting there.”

  Peotr’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head, and he knew his mouth was hanging open in astonishment, but all he could do was stare. Behind him, he could hear Boris’ shocked surprise and the inarticulate confused mumbling that poured out of the big man’s mouth.