Robin 2 - Part 15

by Ronnee


Napoleon felt as if he was in a dream as he was gently led towards the canopied bed.  He had no doubts about his decision -- for too long he had suppressed himself to protect his friend, not wanting to ruin the friendship.  Now it was time for the next step but something nagged at the edges of his mind, he knew something was not quite right.  They had forgotten something.

"HOLD!"  Sergei's voice boomed and echoed through the room.

The forty observers turned, forming an honor guard flanking Illya and Napoleon.  Silently making their support known in the glares they shot towards the newcomers Sergei was reluctantly escorting forward.

Beside him, Illya paled and stiffened, releasing Napoleon's hand.  "What are you doing, Sergei?"

"They claimed the right to challenge, moi droog."  Sergei murmured, eyes pained at the situation.  The two men at his side smiled -- and their smile made Napoleon uneasy. "I cannot refuse them entry."

"I will not allow it."  Illya replied quietly.

"We have no choice."  Sergei bowed his head to the inevitable.   In stilted, formal old Russian, in a dialect not often heard even in the language departments of the world's best universities, he began reciting the ancient phrases.

"What is he saying?"  Napoleon found himself unable to understand the words, but from the ashen faces around him he knew it wasn't good.

"My enemies found a way to delay ... maybe to stop us."  Illya whispered quietly.  He couldn't look at his partner.  It hurt too much.  They had gotten so close only to be stopped before the ritual could be performed.  "They are challenging us to a duel -- to the death."

A thin, high pitched voiced cut across the room and everyone froze as two small figures cut through the crowd of adults.   Their clothes, resplendent, heavy silk, edged with fur stood out among the more common clothing worn by the adults.  Where everyone else, including Illya and Napoleon wore earthy colors -- browns, blacks, and tans, the children stood out in their white and cream.  The two stopped between Sergei and Illya, turning pale blue eyes from one man to the other.

"Shto eto, dyadya?"  The boy asked, his clear voice ringing through the cavern.  Napoleon watched curiously as Illya's friend blushed and tried to convince the boy and his small companion to leave. The boy turned his wide eyes to Napoleon and his gaze narrowed.   The American U.N.C.L.E. agent felt the boy measuring him and was not surprised when the child switched to English. "NO!  I want to know what is happening!"

"Misha."  Illya spoke up, one hand resting gently on the thin shoulder. "Sergei is only obeying tradition.  The others have challenged the ceremony."

"Eto pravda?"  The boy turned bewildered eyes from Illya to Sergei. "But I have not challenged, Pierun. Only I am Dazhdbog.  Only I can challenge."

"You are too young to challenge Pierun, Dazhdbog."  One of the two challengers spoke up.  "We are challenging for you, cousin."

"I do not acknowledge your blood as mine."  The boy growled, backing away from them.  "I acknowledge and accept Pierun's choice."

Sergei stepped between the boy and the challengers.  "Your challenge was that of insulted blood, Fyodr.  Dazhdbog acknowledges Pierun's choice."

"I challenge to protect the next generation of the princes of Kiev!" The man spat the words at Sergei, stepping forward and tripping over the smaller of the two children.  Reflexively, he cuffed the child and the fur cap she wore flew off as she cried out in pain.

Napoleon moved without making a conscious decision, grabbing the man's hand before he could hit the girl again.  He twisted Fyodr's wrist, forcing the man to his knees, arm bent painfully against his back.  He found himself snarling, "I think you owe the girl an apology, me friend."

Illya's quiet grumble made Napoleon look up.  The Russian was pointing a matte black Luger to the other challenger's head with one hand as his other rested on the girl's head.  The child was clinging to his leg, face buried against him.  The boy stood, his back pressed to her back, holding a wicked looking dagger.  To Napoleon's surprise both the boy and his partner wore matching grim smiles.  It took him a moment to mentally translate Illya's quietly growled words, "I think Napoleon has
proved that he can protect the next generation of the family.  You are the ones who threaten them."

Napoleon released the man kneeling before him into the custody of one of the black clad observers and turned to face Illya.  The blond raised his eyebrow and shrugged, still trying to wordlessly comfort the girl. After a few moments, the boy managed to help Illya free himself from her tight grip and led her to face Napoleon.

"Shhh, Tanya.  Eto Napoleon Solo."  The boy introduced Napoleon to her. "I am Misha and this is Tanya.  We welcome you to the family."

Napoleon shook the boy's hand and bowed formally to the little girl, wondering if there were any other surprises to come.  Not that he was about to let any small surprises like challenges and children get between him and Illya.  He would just have to ferret out the information from his partner before it became another sudden surprise.  "Thank you, Misha.

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