The Twilight Watch (26 page)

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a village woman walking
along the road, carrying a bucket filled with potatoes. She'd probably
dug them up out of the collective farm field. When she saw
what was happening inside the fence, she stopped, but I couldn't
give a damn about her right then. I wasn't in great shape as it
was, I had no power to waste on chance witnesses. I needed to
learn to run. To run fast, so that I could keep up with the wolves.

'Let me help,' said Svetlana. She moved her open hand through
the air, and I felt a pleasant ache fill my body and strength start
flooding into my legs. I instantly felt hot, as if I'd stepped into an
overheated sauna. 'Pace' is a simple spell, but it has to be used with
great caution. Catch the cardiac muscle as well as the legs, and
you'll give yourself a heart attack.

Beside me Igor began groaning and arched over with his hands
and feet on the ground and his spine reaching towards the sky, as
if it had snapped in half. So that was where all the old folktales
about having to jump over a rotten tree stump came from . . . His
skin turned dark, broke out in a bright red rash, then sprouted
clumps of damp, rapidly growing fur.

'Quickly!' I shouted. The air coming out of my mouth was hot
and damp, I could see my breath steaming, as if there was a frost.
It was unbearably difficult to stand still – my body craved movement.

It was good to see that the werewolves felt the same.

The large wolf grinned. For some reason his teeth were the last
thing to change. The human teeth in a wolf 's mouth looked comical,
and at the same time horrific. I suddenly had the strange thought
that werewolves had to manage without fillings and crowns.

But then, I realised, their bodies are a lot stronger than human
ones. Werewolves don't suffer from tooth decay.

'Let's-s-s go . . .' the wolf barked with a lisp. 'It's hot.'

The cubs ran up to the wolf, yelping – they were wet too, as
if they'd been sweating. One of them still had human eyes, but I
couldn't tell if it was one of the boys or the girl.

'Let's run!' I said.

And I tore off, without looking back at Svetlana, without thinking
about whether anyone would see us or not. I could sort that out
later. Or Svetlana would erase our tracks.

But the streets were empty, even the woman with the bucket
had gone. Maybe Svetlana had driven everybody back home? It
would be good if she had. It's a strange sight – a man running
faster than nature allows, and four wolves running along with him.

My legs seemed to carry me on of their own accord. The ten-league
boots in children's fairy tales and Baron Münchhausen's
fleet-footed friend – these are the reflections in human myth of
this little piece of magic. Only the fairy tales don't tell you how
much the pounding of the road against your feet hurts . . .

After about a minute we turned towards the river and it was
easier running over soft earth. I stayed beside the wolf, like some
considerate storybook Prince Ivan who didn't want to exhaust his
grey friend. The cubs fell behind – it was harder for them.
Werewolves are very strong, but their speed doesn't come from
magic.

'What ideas . . . have you . . . come up with?' the wolf barked.
'What are . . . you going . . . to do?'

If only I knew the answer to that.

A battle between Others is the manipulation of the Power
dissolved in the Twilight. I was a second-grade magician – which
is pretty high. Arina was way beyond all frameworks of classification.
But Arina was a witch, and that was an advantage and a
disadvantage at the same time. She couldn't have taken all her
charms and talismans and amulets with her . . . only a few little
things. But on the other hand, she could draw power directly from
nature. In the city, her powers decreased, but here they increased.
For really serious magic she needed to use some particular amulet,
and that took time . . . but the charge of accumulated power in
an amulet could be monstrously strong.

I couldn't tell. There were too many variables. I wouldn't even
have tried to predict the outcome of a fight between Arina and
Gesar. The Great Magician would probably win, but it wouldn't
be easy.

And what could I use against the witch?

Speed?

She'd withdraw into the Twilight, where she felt a lot more
confident. And with every successive level, I'd get slower and
slower.

Surprise?

To some degree. After all, I was hoping Arina wasn't expecting
me.

Simple brute force? Smash her over the head with a rock?

To do that, I had to get close to her.

Everything suggested that I had to sneak up on her and get as
close as possible. And the moment the witch was distracted, attack.
With a crude, primitive punch.

'Listen!' I shouted to the wolf. 'When we get close, I'll withdraw
into the Twilight. I'll go on ahead and creep up on the witch.
You advance in the open. When she starts talking to you and gets
distracted, I'll attack. Help me then.'

'All r-r-right,' the wolf growled, saying nothing about what he
really thought of the plan.

W
AS THIS SPOT
still marked on maps of the Second World War?
Maybe it was a battlefield well known to historians and celebrated
in all the books, a place where two armies had once clashed in a
bloody, murderous conflict – and the juggernaut of the blitzkrieg
had shuddered to a halt and been rolled back?

Or maybe it was one of our obscure, unknown fields of shame,
where the crack German units had trampled into the mud the
untrained and poorly armed volunteers thrown in against them? A
place only remembered in the archives of the Ministry of Defence?

I didn't know my history very well, but it was probably the
latter. This place was too deserted, too bleak and dead. An abandoned
patch of dirt that not even the collective farms had coveted.

In our country we don't like to erect monuments on battlefields
where we were defeated.

Maybe that's because our victories weren't all that slick either?

I stood on the bank of the narrow river and looked at the area
of dead ground. It wasn't all that big: a strip of land between the
forest and the river, about a kilometre wide and ten kilometres
long. Not so very many people had been killed here. More likely
hundreds than thousands.

But then, how could you really say that wasn't many?

The field was utterly deserted. I couldn't see anybody with my
normal vision, and a glance through the Twilight hadn't revealed
anything either.

Then I picked up my shadow – the sun was setting behind me
– and entered the Twilight.

At the first level the ground was overgrown with blue moss,
but not too thickly. The usual scraggy clumps, clutching greedily
at faint echoes of human emotion.

There was one thing that put me on my guard. The moss
seemed to run in rings round one particular spot. I knew that it
could move, creeping along slowly but stubbornly towards its
food.

And in this place there was only one possible reason for it to
form into circles.

I set off through the thick grey haze. The human world was
visible through it all around me, like a faded, poorly exposed black-and-
white photograph. It was cold and cheerless – I was losing
energy with every second I spent here. But there was a positive
side to that. Not even Arina could stay in the Twilight constantly.
She could glance into the first level from the ordinary world, but
even that required Power.

And right now she was in no position to be reckless and wasteful
with the Power she had stored up over the years.

At the first level the terrain is almost unchanged. Here too I
had earth under my feet, ruts and humps. But I discovered something
else. I could see, or rather, sense, the old weapons in the
ground. Not every one, of course, only those that had actually
killed. Half-decayed sub-machine guns, slightly better preserved
rifles . . . There were more rifles.

About a hundred metres from Arina I hunkered down and
started running in a squat. The spell Svetlana had put on me was
still working, or I would soon have been out of breath. About
fifty metres away I lay down and started to crawl. The ground was
damp, and I was instantly coated with mud. At least I knew that
when I left the Twilight the mud would simply drop off. The blue
moss began stirring, uncertain what to do – move closer to me
or crawl away from any possible danger. That was bad. Arina might
realise what was agitating it.

And then, very close to me, only about five metres away, a head
with long black hair began rising slowly from the densely overgrown
ground. The trench was so narrow, it looked as if Arina
was emerging straight from the earth.

I froze.

But Arina wasn't looking in my direction. Her body rose up
very slowly until it was completely erect – she seemed to be sitting
on the bottom of the old trench. Then she raised her hand theatrically
to shade her eyes, as if she was saluting. I realised she was
looking through the Twilight.

Fortunately not at me.

My press-ganged recruits were getting close.

How beautifully they ran! Even through the Twilight their
movement looked fast, the only difference was that they hung in
the air too long when they leapt. The wise old wolf was leading
the way, with the cubs behind him.

A human being would have been frightened.

Arina laughed. She put her hands on her hips, for all the world
like a young peasant woman from Ukraine watching her good-for-
nothing husband approach with his drinking companions. She
spoke, and low, rumbling sounds began drifting through the air.
She was in no hurry to enter the Twilight.

I moved back into the human world.

'. . . stupid loudmouths!' I heard. 'Wasn't what you got last time
enough for you?'

The wolves slowed to a walk and stopped about twenty metres
away.

The leader stepped forward and barked:

'Witch! . . .Talk . . .We have to talk!'

'Talk away, grey wolf,' Arina said amiably.

Igor couldn't distract the witch for long, I knew that. Any
moment now she would plunge into the Twilight and take a proper
look around her.

But where was Nadiushka?

'Give us . . . the little girl . . .' the wolf half-shouted, half-howled.
'The Light One . . . is on the rampage . . . give us the girl . . . or
it will . . . be worse for you . . .'

'Do you really think you can threaten me?' Arina asked in
surprise. 'Have you completely lost your wits? Who would give a
child to wolves? Leave while you still can!'

Strange, she seemed to be dragging things out.

'Is the child . . . alive?' the wolf asked in a slightly clearer
voice.

'Nadenka, are you alive?' Arina asked, looking down towards
the ground. She stooped, lifted my little girl out of the trench and
set her on the surface.

I caught my breath. Nadenka didn't look frightened or tired at
all. She seemed to be enjoying what was happening – a lot more
than her walks with Grandma.

But she was close to the witch, too close.

'Wolfie!' said Nadya, looking at the werewolf. She reached her
hand out to him and laughed happily.

The werewolf started wagging his tail.

It only lasted a few seconds, then Igor tensed up, his fur bristled,
and once again we were watching a wild beast, not a tame
dog. But even so, it had happened – a werewolf had fawned on
a two-year-old girl, an uninitiated Other.

'Wolfie,' Arina agreed. 'Nadenka, look to see who else is here.
Close your eyes and look. The way I taught you.'

Nadiushka cheerfully put her hands over her eyes. And began
turning in my direction.

The witch was initiating her.

If Nadiushka really had learned to look through the Twilight
. . .

My daughter turned towards me. She smiled.

'Daddy . . .'

I realised two things.

First, Arina knew perfectly well that I was nearby. The witch
had been toying with me.

Second, Nadiushka wasn't looking through the Twilight. She
had parted her fingers and looked through them.

I immediately withdrew into the Twilight. I was in such a nervous
state that I plunged straight through to the second level – into
that desolate cotton-wool silence and those pale-grey shadows.

Arina's aura was blazing orange and turquoise. Nadiushka's head
was surrounded by a glowing, pure white halo – like a beacon
beaming light into space: a potential Other. A Light One. With
immense Power.

And the werewolves, who had started to run now, were bundles
of red and crimson, fury and spite, hunger and fear . . .

'Svetlana!' I shouted into the grey space, into the soft silence.
'Come!'

I marked the spot for the portal simply – flinging pure Power
into the Twilight, like stretching out a string of fire, a landing
corridor. From me to Arina.

And at the same time I leapt up and started to run, so that
Nadiushka wouldn't be between Arina and me, scattering from
my fingers spells that I had learned a long time ago.

'Freeze' – a localised halt in time.

'Opium' – sleep.

'Triple blade' – the crudest and simplest of all the combat spells.

'Thanatos' – death.

I had no hope any of them would work. These things could
only be effective when you were facing a very weak opponent.
An Other with superior powers would parry the blows, whether
he was in the Twilight or the human world.

All I wanted to do was distract the witch and slow her down.
Overload her defences, which had to be based on amulets and
talismans. All these fireworks were only calculated to identify a
breach in those defences.

My 'freeze' seemed to disappear into nowhere.

The 'sleep' spell ricocheted off and shot up into the sky. I hoped
there weren't any aeroplanes overhead.

The 'triple blade' struck home and the glittering blades sliced
into the witch. But to her the triple blade was a mere scratch.

Things went worst of all with the summons to death. I had
good reason to be fond of this piece of magic, so dangerously
close to the spells of the Dark Ones. But even in the ordinary
world, Arina still had time to hold out her hand. And the little
bundle of grey mist that paralysed the will and stopped the heart
landed obediently in her open palm.

Arina looked at me through the Twilight, smiling. Her hand
was hovering over Nadiushka's head, and the grey bundle was
slowly oozing between her fingers.

I leapt towards them – if I couldn't turn the blow aside, at least
I could take it myself . . .

But Arina was already on the second level of the Twilight,
moving fast. She looked blindingly beautiful. A movement of her
fingers crumpled my spell, and she casually tossed it at the wolves.

'Don't be in such a hurry . . .' the witch chanted in a sing-song
voice. In the silence of the second level her words were like
thunder – and my legs betrayed me. I slumped to my knees just
a step away from Arina and Nadiushka.

'Don't touch her!' I shouted.

'Didn't I ask you,' the witch said in a quiet voice, 'to help me
get away? What's one old witch more or less to you?'

'I don't trust you!'

Arina nodded wearily:

'You're right not to trust me . . . And now what am I to do,
sorcerer?'

Her hand slid across her skirt and tore a sprig of dried berries
from her belt. She tossed them into the blazing white lights,
black smoke billowed up and the marker for the portal disappeared.

Svetlana was too late.

'You leave me no choice, Light One,' Arina said with a grim
expression. 'Do you understand? I'll have to kill you, and then
your daughter's no use to me any more. What were you thinking
of, with your second grade?'

At that instant a glittering white sword-blade struck Arina from
behind, protruded for an instant from her chest, then drew back
in obedience to some invisible hand.

'A-a-a-agh . . .' the witch groaned, slumping forward.

Then the grey gloom parted to let Svetlana through.

The witch seemed to have recovered from the blow already.
She retreated, jigging backwards and keeping her eyes fixed on
Svetlana. The slit that had been burned through her dress was
smoking, but she wasn't bleeding. And the look on her face seemed
more like admiration than hatred.

'My, my . . . Great One . . .' Arina cackled. 'Did I miscalculate
then?'

Svetlana didn't answer. I could never have imagined such intense
hatred in her face – any man would have died just looking into
her eyes. She was clutching a white sword in her right hand, and
the fingers of her left were working the air, as if she was assembling
an invisible Rubik's cube.

The Twilight turned a little darker. A rainbow sphere sprang up
around Nadiushka. Svetlana's next pass was for me – my body
recovered the power of movement. I jumped up and started circling
behind the witch. I was only a bit player in this war.

'Which level did you come from, you fidget?' the witch asked
almost amiably. 'Could it really be the fourth? I was keeping an
eye on the third . . .'

I sensed that the answer was incredibly important to her.

'From the fifth,' Svetlana replied.

'That's really bad . . .' the witch muttered. 'That's a mother's fury
for you . . .' She squinted at me out of the corner of her eye, then
fixed her gaze on Svetlana again. 'Don't you go gossiping about
what you saw down there . . .'

'I don't need you to tell me,' Svetlana said.

The witch nodded and began working her hands very rapidly,
tearing out her hair. I didn't know if Svetlana was expecting this,
but I decided it would be a good idea to jump back. It was a
good thing I did – a black blizzard sprang up and began swirling
round the witch, as if every hair had been transformed into a slim,
sharp blade of black steel. The witch began advancing on Svetlana,
who tossed her white sword at her – the blades sliced it to pieces
and extinguished it, but then a transparent shield appeared, floating
in the air in front of Svetlana.

I thought it must be 'Luzhin's Shield'.

The blades shattered against it almost instantly, without a sound.

'Oh, Lord . . .' Arina wailed. It was strange, but I didn't have
the slightest doubt that she was sincere. Yet at the same time she
was playing to her audience.

In other words, to me.

'Surrender, you wretch!' said Svetlana. 'While I'll still let you,
surrender!'

'But how about . . . how about this?' Arina declared. 'Eh?'

This time she didn't reach for her amulets. She just started
crooning her clumsy doggerel:

Dust to dust collect and bind,
Arms and legs with power filling,
Be my trusty servants willing.
Or you'll be scattered to the wind.

I'd been expecting anything at all from Arina. Except this.
Genuine necromancers are very rare, even among the Dark Ones.

The dead were slowly rising out of the earth.