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 aWolandthing 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. “Sopowerful. 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.
