Chapter 8: Song for the Dead. DEATH is Forever With/US

Part 1

Friday, May 15, 2009

Location: Chekhov, Moscow Oblast, Russia

Grey clouds filled the afternoon sky as rain was supposed to set in about an hour.

Several children were running and playing around in a large grassy yard in front of an orphanage.

The building was slightly decaying but was able to be used by the people inside.

A group of adults and several dozen children.

Children who have lost loved ones to the civil unrest between muggles and mages within the country

A conflict that has gotten deadly over the years has led to sweeping legislation outright banning all magic within Russia, leading to the mass expulsion of the population of mages.

At the sound of a soft thunder crackle, a young woman looked up at the sky.

She was attending to a flower bed of various flowers.

The young female had black hair with blue highlights wrapped in a bun. She was wearing a white button-down shirt with a blue-ribbon bow tie. She was also wearing a blue jean skirt with black slippers.

Noticing that the sky was getting darker, she dusted off her skirt and stood up.

She started walking across the grass as she made her way to the front of the large building.

“Miss Anya”

“Miss Anya”

As she made her way to the front, several of the children swarmed the young woman.

“What snack will we have after supper?”

“Will it be cake?” A boy asked.

"No, it will be cake," a girl said to the boy.

The woman quickly felt overwhelmed by the kids surrounding her.

She could only weakly smile.

“Now, now we can worry about snacks later, but for right now, we have to head inside before it starts to rain.”

Suddenly, she was hit with the sound of various groans coming from the kids.

“Hey now, no complaining." Anya placed her hands on her hips. “You remember the rules, do you?”

“Go to sleep on time.”

“Treat others the way you would want to be treated.”

“We must pray before every meal.”

“Carefully read our books and study hard.”

“And..” Anya closed her eyes and held up her left index finger. “You guys must listen to the head adult in charge, so you guys must head inside now; if you guys don't, then you will be helping me clean the yard.”

“Wha….”

“Ewww no”

“No way”

The kids shouted out before running away towards the entrance of the building.

Everything was quiet now as the kids left the yard.

With a sigh, she began the process of picking up the toys from the ground.

She only managed to pick up a teddy bear from the ground before she noticed a young boy sitting near a tree.

The young boy sat there, looking at the city in the distance.

A place most of the kids at the orphanage would never be able to visit.

Anya could tell that such an action weighed heavily on the children. She would always find them looking out the window during bed checks.

Even though they were children, they were curious about the outside world.

Most would be after spending most of their lives here in confinement.

The civil unrest caused the number of orphans to skyrocket, and since the children of deceased mages could be expelled, they were cast to the outskirts of the city in decaying ghettos.

She made her way to the brown-haired child.

"Ivan, it is time to head inside now.”

The young boy looked at her, his brown eyes meeting hers.

“I’m sorry”

The child turned his head back to the city in the distance.

“The city really looks amazing.”

Ana turned to the city.

It really did look beautiful.

The city was more simplistic in terms of architecture. It didn’t have all the fancy buildings compared to Japan, London, or even NEO New York City. It was those very simple designs that made them so visually appealing.

“Would we be able to visit the city one day?” the child said before standing up.

The question from the child caught her off guard.

She stared at the bright-eyed child.

She did not know how to answer the child's question without breaking his heart.

Mages were cast out and targeted all across the country; they were confined here for their safety since they were treated in ways some could call worse than second-class citizens.

As she tried to find the words to say something, something in the corner of her eyes caught her attention.

She turned her head to see a green vehicle approaching from the distance.

Tigr (Russian: Tiger)

A 4x4 all-purpose, multipurpose infantry mobility vehicle had a camouflage pattern on it colored in two shades of green—one dark and one light.

Her gray eyes watched the car as it approached close, like a shark fin rising out of the water as the shark got closer to its prey.

A feeling of unnerving dread.

That model and in those colors.

She knew.

Those were the vehicles of the Russian military.

“I believe it's time to head inside now,” Anya said as she grabbed the child's hand.

Both made their way to the entrance of the orphanage as the black car pulled into the parking lot.

_____________________________________________________________________

“Weather is starting to become harsh outside,” a male voice with a deep Russian accent spoke out.

The wooden floor began to creak with every step under heavy black boots as the source of the voice began walking towards a black chair before sitting down.

Pictures and shelves lie on three of the four walls in the room. Bookshelves were pressed against two of the walls, filled with books on various topics.

The man sitting behind the desk felt like a trapped animal in his own office.

On the desk were a computer, wired keyboard, and mouse over a blue mat. There was a potted plant and an hourglass at the edge of the desk.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

In any other situation, the objects in the room would be enough to keep him calm, but they had no effect on calming him.

“This place, it is a nice place,” the voice spoke out again.

The situation was very tense in the room for the person sitting at the desk.

The headmaster.

The person in charge of the day-to-day operations of the orphanage.

He was short and chubby, with black hair and light purple streaks running from his ears to the back of his head. I was also wearing a black suit buttoned over a white shirt.

He could feel a bead of sweat travel down the right side of his head as he looked forward to the other gentleman in the room.

There were two army cadets standing outside the door, whose gray eyes were focused on what was sitting on a lounge chair across the desk from him.

A man who holds the rank of Colonel within the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation.

Ivan Kazeev

A large and heavily built man with graying, slicked-back hair. With wrinkles under his eyes, he had a thick mustache that covered his upper lip and a large beard that reached his chest.

He was wearing a large, dark green trench coat with a large fur collar. The coat came down to his knees, revealing his dark green pants.

It was like a large guillotine was hanging in the air, ready to be dropped at a moment's notice.

Judgement.

Colonel Ivan turned his head to look at the window.

“The Volkov, old family in the Soviet Union,” he started without looking at the headmaster. “The Hounds of the Soviet Union, as they were called, were an old magician family.”

That statement caused the headmaster to turn his eyes away, trying to find some sort of peace somewhere else.

“When rules against magic were first proposed, rules faced pushback, and that pushback turned into civil unrest, which would threaten our very country. After several deadly conflicts on both sides, Presidential Decree 604: The Order for Mass Expulsion of Mages was issued.”

“Of course, that option was met with resistance as well. a united coalition of what was to be over two hundred mages across several families. Puny in size compared to our army, but one that could not be discarded, given that several within that group of rebellion began to conspire with the Magic Association to join and overthrow the government.”

The headmaster looked down at his folded hands before closing his eyes.

“A conflict with the Magic Association would have been disastrous with our ongoing stalemate with the United States, although many did not realize that some did. Some did realize how devastating such a fallout would be. There is an old saying: what cannot be destroyed from the outside can be weakened and destroyed from the inside. So, humor me with one question,” the Colonel said as he raised his left index finger.

The headmaster opened his eyes, still looking down.

“How is it that the Volkov family, a family of magicians, remains in Russia to this day, treated almost like royalty by our government? I’ll tell you.”

With a sad look on his face, the headmaster looked at the colonel.

“The Volkov family sold out other magicians to the government, and those who could not be sold out were killed by mage-killers in family employ. Head of family, wives and children smothered, whole families snuffed out, an entire generation of people afraid to use magic out in the open within our borders because they fear that the bogeyman in the dark will get them all because the family wanted to stay in the sunlight just a little bit longer.”

“I have never done that,” the headmaster said in a weak, frail voice before clearing his throat. “I…I am no longer a part of that.”

The Colonel nodded his head up and down slightly.

“Yet you still reap all the benefits of their actions; the very fact that you are alive is testament to that. Cast out or you left on your own accord, you think absolves you from the sins Volkov committed.”

“Sins of the Forefathers”

"Exactly those that reap will always sow, and the bill will always come due." The colonel said this as he sat back in the chair. “But not today.”

Slowly, a look of surprise appeared on the headmaster's face.

“The reason I have come here” The Colonel said as he leaned forward in the chair. ‘I want to speak with the old man; I want to speak with the mage killer; I have proposition for him.”

“What makes you believe that I would know about his whereabouts? I am not affiliated with the Volkov family anymore.”

“That I am not so sure off. The mage killer, lapdog for your family for many years, a relationship that was kept under wraps tightly for many years. When rebellion against the country fizzed out and mage killer was not used as much, the Volkov not only kept him outside of arm's reach to deny plausibility for such atrocities should it ever come to light, but to keep him close so within arm's reach that he could never be used against the family should anyone decide to have him for themselves.”

The Colonel sat back in the chair.

“If he is not under the direct thumb of the family and if they can’t keep eyes on him, then he would be under someone who could, but not just any random person; that person would have to be someone distant, someone that could not be linked to the family but close to family at the same time to let them know what he was doing at all times, someone like you.”

The headmaster closed his eyes and lightly exhaled.

The secret was now out in the open.

“Where is the mage killer?”

The headmaster swallowed hard at the question as he continued looking down at the desk.

“He would be of no use to you; his mind is beginning to wane even more, becoming unstable and sicker,” the headmaster said, trying to plead for the Colonel not to take this course of action.

“With correct planning, even a rabid dog can be useful. Where is he?”

There was no avoiding this now.

The headmaster slid a notepad in front of him on the desk and grabbed a pen out of the cup beside him.

The Colonel began to smile as the headmaster began to write on the pad.

The sound of scribbling filled the quiet room, and soon the sound of ripping paper followed.

The Colonel stood up from his chair.

“If I give this paper to you, and you go to him,” the headmaster said, holding the paper in his outward hand that was visibly shaking. “How many people will die?”

The Colonel grabbed the paper.

“Enough”

As the paper was grabbed out of his hand, the headmaster folded his hands on the desk.

The Colonel stared at the paper closely.

After a few seconds, he began walking towards the door.

“Thank you” was his only reply.

The headmaster closed his eyes as he heard the door open, feeling immense guilt for what he had just done.

“Please forgive me for what is about to happen,” the headmaster whispered to himself before flinching at the sound of the door closing.