'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.
The German soldiers of the Second World War were going back into battle.
Four skeletons dressed in tatters – all their flesh had disappeared long ago and there was earth packed between their bones – stood in a ring round Arina. Another came staggering blindly towards me, clumsily waving its fingerless hands – the bones had rotted clean away. The ludicrous zombie shed pieces of itself at every step. Three equally wretched monsters started towards Svetlana. One of them was even holding a black sub-machine gun that had lost its magazine.
'Think you can raise the Red Army?' Arina taunted Svetlana.
She shouldn't have done that – Svetlana froze as if she had turned to stone. Then she hissed through her teeth:
'My grandfather fought in the war. Was this supposed to frighten me?'
I didn't understand what she did next. I would have used the 'grey prayer', but she used something from the higher levels of magic beyond my reach. The zombies crumbled to dust.
Svetlana and Arina were left staring at each other in silence.
The joking was over.
The enchantress and the witch clashed in a straightforward duel of Power.
I took advantage of the brief pause to gather my own strength. If Svetlana faltered, then I would strike.
But it was Arina who faltered.
First of all, her dress was torn off. That might have had a demoralising effect – on a man.
Then the witch began ageing rapidly. Her luxuriant black hair shrank to a pitiful grey tuft. Her breasts drooped and stretched, her arms and legs withered. She was like a monster from a children's story.
And there were no special effects here.
'Your name!' Svetlana shouted.
Arina didn't hesitate for long.
Her toothless mouth quivered and she mumbled:
'Arina . . . I am in your power, sorceress . . .'
It was only then that Svetlana relaxed – and suddenly seemed to wilt. I walked round the subdued Arina and took hold of my wife's arm.
'It's all right . . . I'm okay,' Svetlana said with a smile. 'We did it.'
The old crone – it was impossible to think of her as Arina – gazed at us sadly.
'Will you allow her to assume her former shape?' I asked.
'Why, was she more attractive then?' said Svetlana, attempting to joke.
'She'll die of old age in a moment,' I said. 'She's over two hundred years old.'
'Let her croak . . .' Svetlana muttered. She glowered at Arina. 'Witch! I grant you the right to become younger!'
Arina's body rapidly straightened up and filled with life. The witch gulped at the air greedily. She looked at me:
'Thank you, sorcerer . . .'
'Let's get out of here,' Svetlana ordered. 'And no stupid tricks . . . I grant you only the right to leave the Twilight!'