“First, the bauks. We’ve seen them in Uncle Basil’s illusions before. They’re like ogres, with curving horns, claws, and fangs. They’re stupid but big and vicious. Some of them can use basic weapons, but generally, they’re going to try and grab you and rip off your head, then eat you. You can kill them the way you would any large animal – chop off the head, bleed it out, strike to the heart, you know, the usual. They have no magical powers on their own.
“Next, the balachko,” Theo continued. “These ones are trouble. They’re giants and they have three heads. They have magic too – from one head they can spit fire and from another they can breathe cold wind. However, good for us, once they deplete their magical power, they’re relatively easy to kill.” He paused. “You know, for giants.”
“The bukavacs are slimy, with six legs, big mouths, long tails, and spiral horns on their heads. They like to yell very loudly and they live close to swamps, rivers, and lakes. Their yells aren’t magic but they’re earsplitting and they can make you momentarily deaf. The legs are the key with them. They’re thin and they snap easily, like an insect, so you want to break their legs and then you can chop off their heads.
“Todorats are half human, half horses–”
“Like a centaur?” I interrupted.
“Not really. A todorat looks more like a rider sprouting from a horse’s back. They wear cloaks that obscure their faces and they kill by stomping. They can use offensive weapons because, hello, human torsos, and they can also use offensive magic. They’re pretty hard to kill. They can shake the ground with their stomps and when you add in their magic, it’s like battling a very strong human mage who can also run faster than you and kick you to death.”
“Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “That one’s my favorite so far.”
“Just wait,” Theo responded.
“The azhdaya are two-headed dragons that spit fire and the psoglav is a chimera, with horse, human, and dog pieces, oh, and one eye. It likes to eat people with its iron teeth.”
“You’re right. The dragons are probably my favorite,” I said and made a face at Theo.
“The dragons don’t have any magic talents except for, you know, the breathing fire thing. Obviously.” Theo added.
“So those are the big six, according to Uncle Alex. There are some other, minor creatures that he can’t remember the names of, but he doesn’t think they’re likely to be difficult. Maybe we can find more information about them from Aunt Irene’s journals, if Julian discovers them.”
“Now,” Theo said. “Our weapons. We’re descended from a magical Varangian cohort. A cohort would be organized so that it held at least one member of each of the four main categories of magic users under a stratego, or commander.
“The main categories are elementals, zhakhar, augurs, and strikers.
“Elementals connect with the elements – air, earth, fire, and water; and can also exert some amount of control over their element. From the cohort that became our family back in 1908, my Great Grandma Agatha was an air elemental and your Great Grandma Joanna was an earth elemental. Now, my Grandma Ariadne is a water elemental and Aunt Helen is an air elemental.
“Zhakhar are illusionists.” Theo paused to take a sip of water and continued. “Irene was the original one in our family and Uncle Basil is almost as strong as her.
“Augurs are soothsayers, or seers. Basically, anyone with the second sight. Uncle Alex has this power and I do also, to a smaller extent. Uncle Alex can see more clearly than I can and also at longer distances.
“Finally, strikers use offensive magic. Some hurl magic bolts, some propel objects, and some are super strong. Roman had the power to launch energy bolts, and now Aunt Sophia and your mom have this power. Julian has incredible strength as his offensive magic. Both my dad and Uncle Constantine can shoot objects, mainly projectiles, to some distance.”
I added the obvious. “So, if we get in over heads with this, we have a lot of offensive magic users and elementals we can call to help.”
“Exactly,” Theo said. “Just ignore the fact that most of them are approaching their one century mark, if they haven’t already hit it, or are spring chickens in their 60s and 70s, or are caretakers to those spring chickens.”
“Plus—” Theo exclaimed, “don’t forget we have a Nightingale! So, add that to our magical arsenal. Boom.”
I laughed. “Yeah, a Nightingale who has no idea how to use her powers.”
“Yes, exactly,” Theo said. “Let’s work on that. We’ve got hours and hours to go. Let’s do some experiments.”
I startedwith just some basic whistles, like I’d used previously on Denali, the neighbor’s dog. “Come” and “stay” had no effect on Theo. He continued to sit on his bunk, looking at me expectantly. Okay, so it wasn’t the noise itself that was the magic; it must be the intent behind the whistle. I tried to think of something I wanted Theo to do.
I started a high, cheerful whistle and in the tune, I inserted a little trill of “Cookie! Cookie! Cookie!”
Theo stood, leaned forward to the container on the small table, snagged a cookie, and handed it to me, all with a terrible, blank look on his face. I immediately stopped my whistle.
Theo blinked and looked at me, then looked down at himself standing in the aisle between our bunks. “Okay…” he said.
“No, not okay,” I whispered. I had a hard time finding my voice. “I just controlled you.” I felt it, my magic, reaching out to him and smothering the spark I sensed in his chest, laying my will on top of his. It was too easy. What if I’d lost control? What if I couldn’t withdraw my command? What if I’d asked him to do something dangerous? What if he felt violated and now, he hated me forever?
Theo must have seen the panic on my face. “Right, let’s
