The change was immediate. I moved in one step from the clear chilly air of a forest at the end of winter, to a world of hot and oppressive air, where yellow clouds boiled away for as far as the eye could see. The gentle winds that I had known in my youth were now harsh and hot, stinging the skin with particles of dust. There were no gardens, no green or growing things anywhere, save for black brambles and the occasional anemic thistle. Far away, where the city had once stood gleaming in the sunlight, rose a high black obsidian dome, every edge looking at though it would cut through flesh and straight down to bone.
That must be where the Baba Yaga had set up her rule, I thought, and shuddered at the sight of the monstrous building. It looked as though it had boiled up from the ground. All the lines of power in the land converged there.
Much to my surprise, a city of sorts circled the black tower; rows of little crude cottages rose from the ground, and from their doors I could see figures moving. The people I saw were hunched over, faces lined and grimy, and their steps slow, but I have never felt so great a surge of hope as I did when I saw them.
For these were not mortals, not human beings; these were my own people, the Children of the Realm. Somehow, they had survived the fire of the dragon and the wrath of the Yaga, and were living in the ruins. A voice seemed to beat in my heart, You are not the last.
“Not the last,” I breathed, hardly daring to believe it. I made my way carefully down the path into the city, for the road was almost overgrown with brambles, and there were many thorns. I could not help but remember it as I had known it: a wide thouroughfare, with beautiful figures going up and down into the city at all hours of the day and night. On special festivities during the nights, it had beed lined with floating lights, so that it looked like a river, flowing through the hills and illuminating the sky. And now it was scarcely wide enough for one person, and the air was thick with the dust that my feet raised.
The hawk and the eagle had departed, flying off into the ochre sky, to I know not where. But the raven stayed on my shoulder, his sharp eyes catching everything that was to be seen. “I will tell you truth, I am glad of your company,” I said to him, looking out across the village before I entered it. “I had not expected there to be anything here to greet us, but now that I have seen the town, I cannot but do what I can to lift its misery.”
The raven eyed me, but said nothing. Lifting its wings, it flapped into the air, and flew a few paces in front of me. I followed the dark bird into the town.
A few of the other Children of the Realm looked at me as I passed. It seemed so strange to me, to see them in houses like the men in the mortal world, but the air was no longer clear and the winds would have soon ripped apart any hammock or sling that could have been set up. There were no trees in which to sleep anymore, nor any hedges, and they must have set up the houses in a desperate attempt to survive.
Many of them still wore the flowing gowns that I had known in my youth, but they were tattered and stained with ash and mud. Most of the Realmsmen I saw wore loose-fitting robes of rougher materials; not so glorious to look upon, but they would last better in the harsh weather.
I looked carefully into every face I passed, hoping that I might recognize at least one. But the years had been too many, and I had taken no special care to notice appearances when I had lived there before. No glimmer of recognition met my eyes, though this did not surprise me. In fact, I looked much as did my fellow fey; swathed in rough grey cloth, hair turned grey, face aged beyond what was common for our people. I wished I could open my heart to them, tell them what I had seen and how good it was to see them, even in this state, but such a thing was impossible. I could see the fear in their eyes, the fainting spirit that was so unlike anything I had seen in them before. And of course, my arrival must not be so strange as to draw the attention of the dark queen in the obsidian tower.
I thought of the Yaga's yellow teeth and foul breath, and shuddered. Sooner or later, I would see her. There was no help for it, and no escape. But that day need not be today. First I must find shelter of my own, and decide what to do.
I did not dare ask any of the others to open their house to me; it would have been a futile effort, and besides, I needed quiet to think and plan. At the edge of the last cluster of cottages was an empty space, choked with boulders. Throwing my shoulders into the effort, I was able to roll a few of the large boulders into a half-moon shape, and stacked smaller rocks on top.
Though so much had changed, time still moved differently here than it had in the world of men. It would take me time to adjust to having no rapid succession of day and night. What had been long years of warm sunlight and rich night sky would now be decades of hot wind and dim dreariness, followed by a man's lifespan of choking darkness. I grimaced at the thought of it, and kept working.
Finally, my little stone ring had been daubed with mud and a roof made from a length of mud-clotted cloth that I had begged from one of the others. It was not the worst shelter I had stayed in, and I almost laughed at the thought that my time among men could have hardened me enough to live in my own land again. I rested then, the raven keeping watch from the rocks, and wondered what the future held.
I was nothing of any special note here in the Realm. Just another feygirl, young and foolish. Even now, I had nothing with which to defeat the Baba Yaga. She had blasted the Great Gate with blood rites, and called down the dragon; I had a bridle, an apple, a crown, and three birds. My heart sank, and for many hours I could not stir myself to rise.
Finally, the raven flew down into the shelter, and pecked at my feet. He would not go away, even when I kicked, so I steeled myself to get back up. When I left the shelter, the raven took to the air again, and flew down the path towards the black tower. My heart quailed, but I ran after him.
After we rounded the far side of the tower, I saw a huge archway, all of sharp obsidian, that lead into the tower. Guarding it, though no one tried to pass through, was Koschei.
I almost did not think it was him, for he was thin as a skeleton, and his armor was dull and rusted. His horse shifted from hoof to hood, and nipped at the bark of a dead branch that lay in the dust. Fire still shone from Koschei's eyes, but it was not the flame of a warm fire, rather, the dim glow of an ash caught on the wind that will cease to burn in another second.
I drew back, clutching my grey cloak tighter around me. But Koschei's gaze was fixed on the ground in front of him, only occasionally looking up to scan the street. There seemed to be little fear of intrusion.
I lifted my eyes up to the path beyond the archway. The way led up a flight of stone steps, and up to a great set of doors, so large that I did not think anyone could move them. I could feel the power of the land beneath my feet; all of the lines of power converged here, through those doors. That must be where the Great Witch had set up her court. No battle outside the doors could do any good, as long as the Yaga sat in power inside.
Knowing I could not go through those doors, there was no reason for me to try to pass Koschei and go through the archway. I turned to go, but the raven suddenly flew into my face, talons scratching at my eyes. I lifted up my arms to shield myself, and with that sharp gesture, the silver bridle slipped loose from my belt.
I felt a moment of sheer terror as it fell, feeling the weight of it land heavily on the road at my feet. Even in the dim cloud-veiled light, it shone brightly, like clear water under moonlight. Indeed, it was the brightest thing I could see.
I quickly bent over to pick it up as the raven flew away, but froze as I heard a voice call out. It was a high, raspy croak, and it came from behind the archway. “What is that, then?”
I stopped, hand outstretched to snatch the bridle, but unable to do so. I thought that surely she would be able to feel the power that I carried within me, but as had been in her chicken-leg house, the stench of her own magic was so great that she could not distinguish anything from the odor.
“And what is it you have, then,” she repeated, hobbling down the steps. Her eyes were bright, and her hands curled up like claws as she reached out for the bridle. “I've not seen a thing of this beauty in many a year.” Her expression was hungry as she gazed at the bridle, and suddenly I knew her flaw. She could control whole worlds, summon the dragon, scorch the earth, but try as she might, she could never create beauty.
She ran a dusty finger along the lines of the bridle, marveling at the smooth purity of the metal. “I have never seen you wandering the streets of my city,” she rasped, “for I know all of the folk here by sight.”
I noticed that she seemed smaller than she had in the world of men, and her skin hung more loosely on her bones. I wondered how much the blasting of the Gate and the summoning of the dragon must have taken from her. And surely the dragon was now bound, for there was no sign of it; how much had she given for that? She ruled, yes, but she was much less than she had been.
“I come from the farthest corner of the Realm,” I answered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I had heard of the greatness of the tower that had been built, and I desired to see such a wonder. And truly, it is a marvel; I have never seen its like before.”
The witch nodded, eyes still on the bright metal. “Indeed, the tower is great, but it is lacking in certain finer things.” turning suddenly to me, she held up the bridle. “I would have this from you, what price do you ask? I will give up anything you wish, for the land is mine to give!”
For a moment, I could not reply. Her pretense at queenliness, offering the Realm piecemeal as if it were hers to do with as she pleased. I wondered if she would simply strike me down if I asked for something she did not wish to give, but there was no help for it now. The lots were cast, and all that remained was the game. Who knew which of us would win?
“Great Queen of the Realm,” I answered, choking back disgust at such a title, “this was a very great gift to me, and I had not thought to part with it. It is very dear to me, and I cannot sell it for any price.” I made as if to take the bridle back, but she snatched it away again.
“No, I will give you whatever you ask, enough to make you a great lady if you wish it! Only let me have this bridle, for there is nothing like it in my tower.”
willing myself to dare so highly, I replied, “Very well, then. The price I ask is a third of the Realm. I cannot part with the bridle for less.”
Silence fell between us for a long moment, and the witch's lip curled. I feared for a moment that she would cast the silver back into the dust, and call down fire to burn me, but at last her eyes strayed back to the bright metal.
“As you please, then!” she shouted, clutching the bridle in her gnarled hands. “Take the third of the Realm that lies where the sun sets. It is yours.”
“Do you swear it,” I pressed, “do you swear by the Realm itself?”
She hesitated again, then nodded. “I swear, by the very Realm itself, that the third of it under the setting sun is now yours.”
I felt a shiver pass through the earth, her words reverberating in power through the land. And I knew that the land was mine, as surely as the stars still shone above the clouds. She would still control the Realm as long as she sat in the center of power, but her power would be less, now.
“Very well then, great Queen,” I said, letting my fingers slip loose from the bridle. “It is yours, and may its beauty bring you much joy.”
She nodded in approval, and slipped the bridle into her own belt, marveling at the reflections that the metal cast upon her clothing.
I made my way back to my shelter, and ducked under the cloth that covered it. The game was set, now. The Yaga desired beauty, desired to posess it, more than anything else in the world. I knew what must be done, but my heart was grieved at the thought of surrounding the tiara to her. I did not want to see that horrible face peering forth from under the crown that I had worn for Guidon.
“Take heart,” came a rough voice from outside the shelter, and I looked out to see the raven standing in the dusty space. “Take heart, for you cannot lose either beauty or love if they are truly kept in your heart. The crown itself means nothing without the love that was behind it, and that you have forever. It is from the love that the beauty truly comes, and she can never take that away from you.”
I did not wish to give away my plan too quickly, so I did not venture out to the dark tower again for a long time. I talked with the other dwellers of the Realm, and slowly pieced together the story of the doom that had fallen.
One of the young ones had gone out to the mortal world and not been seen again, and it was assumed that it was this one that the Yaga had caught and bled on the stones of the Gate. Fewer and fewer of my kind had been slipping into the world of men, so the Gate was rarely used, and the atrocity not discovered. Then one day, in the middle of fall, when the breeze grew slightly cool, Koschei had ridden his black horse down into the city, like a whirlwind of fire and storm. With a single word, he had filled the paths with billowing smoke, so that no one could see anything. The witch had come behind him, scraping across the ground in her mortar and driving it with the great iron pestle. In the middle of the city, she had stopped and raising the pestle to the sky, begun chanting horrible words in a language that no one understood. The sky grew dark and clouds swirled in, covering the sun and blocking all light. Fire had begun to rain down from the clouds, burning all the grass and cracking the branches of the trees. Then, as the Yaga finished her song, the Dragon came, and all hope was lost. His breath had burned all that could burn, and his tentacles pulled down every tree. The first blast of his breath had swept through the Realm, destroying everything in its path, and it was this that had flattened and burned the trees for so many miles around the Gate.
I grieved with them when they told me the story, and more so when I heard that so many of our fellow fey had simply lain down to die in the wake of the dragon's passing. Seeing no hope, and unable to live without the green grass and soft summer breezes, they had passed from the Realm into nothingness, and the whole earth was now their grave.
Such stories tore at my heart, but served to strengthen my resolve. The others asked who I was, and where I had come from, but I refused to give them answers, only saying that it would be revealed in time.
Finally, I went again to the dark tower, the raven perched on my arm. I walked slowly along the path that would lead me in front of the archway, and drew the golden apple out from my sleeve. Even in the ochre light, the apple shone brighter than the sun through the clouds, and the smell of it was caught by the winds and wafted up into the tower. Even so, Koschei simply sat astride his horse, looking on with dull eyes.
I had scarcely tossed the apple up and caught it in my hand before the Yaga came scurriyng down the steps again.
“What? You, back again, and with something even more beautiful than the first,” she screeched, eyes fixed on the apple as I tossed it and caught it again. The scent that came from it was almost driving me mad, for it smelled of the home I had known, all fresh and green and warm, a haunting memories among the dust-choked winds where I now stood.
“I beg your pardon, great queen,” I said, catching the apple a final time, and making as if to stow it in my sleeves again. “I did not mean to disturb you. I was simply out walking to see this grand tower again, and I thought to pass the time by playing with the apple.”
“Let me see it again,” she begged, clutching at my arm. I almost jerked my arm away, but stopped myself in time. Handing her the apple, I watched as she examined every inch of it, inhaling deeply of the scent. She even began to salivate at it, and I knew that she would not leave the steps without it.
“It is just a plaything,” I said, reaching for the apple, but she pushed my hand away.
“I will give you a third of my Realm again, if you but give me this apple,” she said, and she was almost panting with desire for it.
“I do not know if I wish to part with it, great queen, for though it is a simple thing, it gives me great joy.” I had to gaze at the ground then, not to persuade her of my subservience, but to avert my eyes from her face, for the sight of her blind desire was disgusting to see.
“Oh, take the land and be done with it,” she shrieked, clutching the apple to her breast. “I swear by the Realm itself that the third portion of it that lies under the rising sun is now yours!”
again, the surge of power beneath my feet. She did not seem to notice, so fixed was she on the golden apple, but I almost thought she withered again before my very eyes.
“May it be according to your wish, then, Queen,” I replied, and made my way back to the shelter. As I walked, I let my fingers brush along the wooden beads at my wrist. The groundwork was laid and the work strengthened, but it would all be for nought if the last failed. I knew the crown would slake both her hunger for beauty and her thirst for power, but it felt as though it would kill me to give it.
When I returned to the humble dwelling, I sat in silence for a long time. The raven watched from outside, but did not speak. The beads made a faint clicking sound as they brushed together, and I found the rhythm of counting them helped keep me calm and focused.
It must be done.
Again, I waited before setting out again. If I approached the tower too short, the Yaga would not yet have grown accustomed to the beauty of the apple and would be less willing to give me my request.
I walked outside again, and looked up at the sky. I wished with all my might that I could see even a hint of sunlight, but the yellow clouds were thick, and boiled away without disclosing the faintest hint of what might lie beyond them. There were no calls of songbirds to lighten the silence, and no sound of running water to make pleasant music to rest to.
As I looked up, I saw two small silhouettes against the clouds: the hawk and the eagle. Though they were quickly gone, my heart was somewhat eased by the knowledge that they had not left me. There was still hope, a cold hard hope though it might be.
The game must play out, and I must do my part. Everything else was up to fate, and I could do nothing to change it.
The day finally came to make the final effort. The light was less now, and I knew that soon the Realm would be plunged into the darkness of night, with no moon or stars to pierce the dark. I wondered, briefly, if daylight would ever come again to the land if I failed.
I washed my clothes as best I could in the muddied water from a stream a few hours' walk away, and hung them to dry in the wind. When I was dressed in them again, I put on the grey cloak, and wove my hair into a braid around my head. Finally, I put on the tiara, knowing that it was the last time I would wear such a thing. Though it was light as a feather, I felt my head drooping under the weight of what was to come.
Finally, I stepped out into the waning daylight, and the raven took his place on my shoulder. Again, the hawk glided behind me, and the eagle above, and we set out down the path, towards the dark tower that stood like a rock in the sea.
As we neared the archway, I held my head high, letting the yellowish light from the clouds catch the diamonds, which tossed the light back in a rainbow of colors. As we neared the archway, I saw Koschei's horse, but it was riderless, and tied to the wall. Feeling a sense of misgiving in my heart, I turned to look for his shadowy rider.
The hawk cried a warning just before I felt the iron grip on my arm. Whirling around, I saw Koschei behind me, and his eyes burned into mine.
“Feygirl...” he rasped, and his voice trailed off into a rough breathing. “I knew it must be you. It's always you, in the end, of course you'd be here.”
I tossed a hurried glance over my shoulder. I was not yet quite within sight of the doors beyond the archway, but if the Baba Yaga heard a struggle, she would surely come out to deal with it, and all would be lost. But I could do nothing, and the wraithlike sorceror pulled me closer. Whispering into my ear with fetid breath, he said, “Put an end to it, then! Kill the witch and burn us all.”
I stopped struggling out of sheer surprise. He let go of my arm with a shove, and took a step away. “Yes, you heard. Kill the witch; I am only a shadow of the man I was, and it is because of her! She tricked me, and made me a puppet.” He sneered. “A puppet! Koschei the Deathless, sorceror king of the earth, and he serves a wrinkled old woman with food caught in her teeth.” He turned and shuffled back to his horse, and pulled himself into the saddle again.
“end it,” he whispered again, and resumed his silent watch as the hawk and eagle returned to circle around us.
I was shaken, but I did not want to delay any longer. This could not last, and I did not know what Koschei might do now. It was time. With a deep breath, I took a step back onto the path, and in a moment, I was in front of the archway again.
I could hear Koschei breathing heavily, as though his lungs were bellows made of old leather, creaky and leaking air. Then with a scrabbling sound of callused feet on stone, the Grandmother of Witches came flying out of the tower and down the path.
Before I could even speak, she had snatched the tiara from my head, taking more than a few of my hairs with it. I inhaled sharply at the pain, but held back a cry. The old witch was already running her fingers over the gems inset in the crown, and in a moment had set it atop her own head.
It was the moment I had been dreading, when I would see her face peering out from under the tiara that had crowned my own head at the height of my happiness. The moment was everything I had feared, and I realized that it did not matter.
In that moemnt, I saw her for what she truly was. Not a witch of terrifying power, not an unnatural creature who held the power to summon the dragon, but simply an endless desire to possess, to have, to snatch what she could never had gotten for herself out of love or skill. In that split second, with the beautiful crown perched atop her wrinkled stinking head, I pitied her. Even if I died here, struck down by a spell or burned with the dragon's flame, I was more posessor of everything that the tiara meant than she could ever be.
Raising my eyes again, I smiled. “Why, great Queen, it suits you so well! I am glad that it is of a good fit. However, I cannot part with it without a suitable price, for you can see that it is a thing of great beauty and worth.”
She clutched the crown, the precious metal digging into her dry scalp. “I don't care what it costs, I must have the crown! I am the queen, and I must have a crown!”
“Of course, but I must have payment for it as well.” I pressed farther, knowing that this was the moment that would determine whether my plan had failed or suceeded.
“I will not give you the rest of the Realm,” she snapped, “I will not be Queen of nothing!”
“Then let me have my own heart's desire,” I said, wheedling the old woman, “for I have come from so far to see this grand tower of yours. It is the desire of my heart to see such a thing from the inside. Let me but pass through the doors for a single minute, and that will be enough for me.”
This gave the witch pause. She knew as well as I did what was beyond those doors, and she squinted at me for a moment, trying to determine if I posed any threat to the center of her power. I smiled pleadingly and hoped against all hope that she would not recognize the feygirl she had turned into a wooden doll so long ago.
Finally, she gave a slight nod, and turned to go up the path. I followed her, and heard a slight jangling sound as Koschei turned to watch us go. Then I was up the steps and standing in front of the doors.
The witch murmured something and clapped her hands. From the air itself came two pairs of hands; each grabbed one of the iron rings on the doors, and began to pull. With a great groan of metal hinges, the doors slowly swung open. Though the daylight was not bright, the interior of the tower was so dark that I could not see anything past the doors. For a moment, I fancied I was walking into the mouth of the dragon itself.
Then another step and we were through. “One minute only,” snapped the witch. But it was enough.
With a cry, the raven lifted into the air, and I slipped the wooden beads off my wrist. Crying out to the raven, I tossed to beads into the air: “take them, for the prayers of a holy man go with them!” The raven caught the beads around his neck, and flew through the doors into the daylight.
The room into which we stepped was huge, like the great cathedrals I had seen in the cities of men. It was filled with blackness, broken only by the occasional candle. But I could feel the lines of power through the floor, and knew what I had to do.
I turned on the spot, and quickly found the center of the power, the spot from which the Baba Yaga commanded all that happened within the Realm. As she shrieked and ran at me, I lifted up my hands and began to sing a song, a song that pulled the power of the lands that she had given me down to this spot.
The Realm was sick, and dying, and what power it now had was not the great green magic that had once been a part of everyday life. But power there was, and I shaped it with my voice, singing at the Yaga with everything I had. She reeled back, clutching her throat as if choking, and the tiara fell to the floor, rolling under the ghastly obsidian throne that say at the far end of the hall.
Then the floor shook, and I heard the sound of breaking stone and rending metal. The sound of roaring flame, and I knew that the dragon had been freed from his chains. I heard the scream of the eagle, the loud hunting cry of the hawk, and the harsh croak of the raven, and knew that the battle outside must be left in their hands.
I took a breath, and as the song ceased for that brief instant, I saw the witch come flying at me, and her hands closed about my throat.
Time seemed to stop, and I choked, unable to release either song or breath, and I clawed at the Yaga's hands, trying to pry them away. She clung to me like death itself, shrieking and biting at my face.
I could hear the roar of the dragon outside, and the roar of flames again and again. We had failed, then, and the Realm would fall into total darkness, with the Queen of witches and the dragon left to fight each other for the pieces.
With a gasp, the Baba Yaga's eyes opened wide, and her grip slackened. I pried her hands away from my throat and coughed, falling to the floor. I looked up, trying to catch my breath, and saw a sprinkle of red drops falling to the floor. The Yaga staggered to the door, staring in horror at Koschei, who stood with a shard of obsidian in his hand. “May you die by your own magics, witch,” he hissed into her face, and stabbed out with the shard again.
The Baba Yaga ducked away, and scrambling onto her throne, reached into her robes and pulled out an egg. Holding it aloft, she screeched, “You can never defeat me, faithless slave! I hold your soul here in my hands, and I can crush it at my whim!”
She made a fist around the egg, but I had recovered my voice and my breath, and the song began again, stronger than before, weaving my charms around her. She writhed in the throne, and fell to the floor, egg falling from her hand and rolling away into the darkness. I kept the song strong, and it grew in volume and strength as the power continued to flow into me.
I sang of the Realm by night, with the stars overhead and the shimmering curtains of color flowing through them. I sang of the moon and the sun, and of warm summer days spent in the shade of trees with rivers running nearby. I sang the Realm back into itself, and the witch withered with every note.
Finally, when I could sing no more of the land, the song changed, and I sung of love. Of the pang of loving without return, the joy of love shared, and the dreadful loss of a lifelong love. My tears flowed as freely as the song, and something new had entered into the magics, neither charm nor spell nor power of the land. And the witch gave a final strangled cry, and fell to the ground. Flame leapt up from the spot, and before the final notes of the song had died away, she was nothing but a twisted blackened skeleton, warped jaw frozen in a skeletal scream.
There was silence. I could no longer hear the dragon roaring, nor flames burning, nor anything outside the tower. Koschei leaned against a wall, bleeding and breathing with great difficulty.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something in the darkness at the edge of the room. Walking over, I picked it up, and found myself holding the egg. Inside it, I knew, was the soul Koschei had traded for his power.
It was such a tiny thing, I thought, rolling the egg in my palm, and yet it contained everything that made Koschei who he was. So delicate, so easily broken, and yet eternal if nothing came to crush it.
Looking past the egg, my eyes met the sorcerer's. His eyes were almost dim now, with only hints of the fiery blaze that had once sprung from that gaze. His breathing was labored, and he gasped, “Crush it. Have done with me, for I am done with everything. Put an end to this miserable existence.”
I tightened my fingers around the egg, feeling the shell in my palm, ready to pop. But then I opened my hand and knelt, carefully setting the fragile thing on the floor before stepping back.
“No,” I said quietly, more tired than I had ever been in my life. “I cannot do this thing. You saved my life, and the entire Realm, whether you wished it or no. I cannot do such a thing after that deed.”
I heard a sound at the door, and looked up. There stood three men, with helmets bearing the wings of the eagle, the hawk, and the raven. They were covered in blood, and their armor was dented and torn, but the dragon could no longer be heard. It was over.
With a snarl, Koschei stood up. Reeling, he ran to where the egg lay on the stone floor, and raised his foot. “End it, I said! There is nothing left here!” And with those words, he brought the heel of his boot down upon the egg.
The shell shattered into a hundred tiny fragments. There was a sickly yellow light that filled the room for a moment, and the smell of sulfur burned my lungs, then all was dark again, and the withered body of Koschei lay cold and dead upon the floor.
I collapsed, my spirit too exhausted to hold my body up any longer. I had given all the power I had to end the Baba Yaga's reign, and I had nothing left. But it was over and the Realm was free. I had come home at last.
When I came to my senses again, my face and hands were being washed by Viktor, with water that was clearer than any I had seen in the streams since my return. He saw me looking into the bowl, and smiled. “We sunk a new well, not far from the stream. It is full of good water, and I think the stream will soon run clear again, too.”
I sat up, and saw that I was on the ground in front fo the small shelter I had built. I looked toward the city, expecting to see the obsidian tower rising against the sky, but it was gone.
“yes,” Viktor said, “it crumbled within an hour of the Baba Yaga's death. It was only her will and her spells that had created it, and it could not long outlast her. We got you out before it happened, but only by a little.”
The sky was still cloudy and dim, and the ground as dry and dusty as it had been. Some part of me had hoped that the renewal would be quicker, more noticeable, like a great green carpet spreading out from the place of victory. But of course, it was not like that. The damage that had been done was real, no illusion, and the renewal must be equally real. It would be a very long time before the Realm was healed, and I wondered now if it could ever really be the same again.
My eyes were drawn to a crowd that had gathered around. The people of the Realm were slowly coming, surrounding us, looking on in confusion and fear.
“go to them,” Viktor whispered. “Speak to them. They have lived for too long like children in this land, knowing nothing of pain or loss. The great wars of your race are far in the past, and this is their first great grief. You are the only one among them who has trod that path, and only you can lead them out of it.”
I stood, and took a step toward the crowd, then turned to look over my shoulder. All three men stood there, silent and strange. “will I ever know your story? Will I ever see you again?”
Viktor looked at me, and I thought I saw a faint smile through his black beard. “Once more will we meet, Vasilissa of the Summer Realm, and after that who can say? Perhaps we shall see each other in the paths of the dead, and perhaps beyond death itself. But that is not for you or I to decide.”
and then the air was full of the sound of birds, and a great flock descended from the sky. When they birds flew away, I was alone with my people.
For a few moments, we all looked at each other. We were alone, and the land was nothing but dust and brambles under a choking yellow sky. What did they expect of me? I had done what I could, I had done away with the one who had destroyed so much, but even I could not bring back what was destroyed in a moment.
When my grief and anger were too much for words, I opened my mouth and sang it into the sky. My people had often sung under the stars and in the summer days. We had sung of joy, of peace, of happiness and contentment, and the beauties of our world. And now I lead them in a new song, a song that my heart had been learning since I was exiled from the Realm, and one I now knew by heart. For the first time, we lifted out voices and sang of grief and loss and pain.
When the song was ended, we began to work.