tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48471415229508221252024-02-08T05:58:37.127-08:00VasilissaJoihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-40149763752997482492010-11-30T22:56:00.000-08:002010-11-30T22:57:02.930-08:00Epilogue: Zarya<p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Epilogue: Zarya</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">there is much in my mother's story that she did not tell. She never wrote of the many hours she spent, helping her people grieve and then helping to rebuild. She would never tell of the days she spent coaxing a single tree to health, or pouring her own energies into the ground so that the grass might grow. It was not her way to speak of such things, only to do them. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She told me once that she feared pride above all else, for it was for pride that she had been exiled, and it was pride that caused the most pain to those she had loved. Perhaps she was proud when she was young, but if it was so, then it had all been driven from her by the time I returned to the Realm. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sometimes I would come upon her suddenly, and catching her looking out across the river at something much farther away than the other shore, but she would never tell me what it was that she saw at such times. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">However, she did not speak of such things, and so it is not my place to write of them, save the brief mention here. I am here to tell of her final days and her passing, and so to give her story a true end. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">One mild summer, many years after the restoration of the land, she told me that she felt a chill that did not come from the wind nor the morning rain. I stayed with her for a time, and we walked among the gardens, talking of my life in the world of men and of my father, whom she still missed greatly. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Slowly, we came to talk of this land, of the way things grew, and the way the wind blew, and how the people behaved. She loved them all, and I could hear another sorrow in her voice, and I knew that she was ready to leave them. She could not bring herself to talk of it openly, but her talking was a way of telling me what to do, how to make things grow, how to treat those around me that the restoration might continue.</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I listened, and spoke at times, and eventually she seemed at peace. That summer we had our best crop of flowers yet, and the scent of them was forever in the air. I loved it, for I had always hated winter, and loved the spring and summer, and to live in a land of eternal spring was the joy of my life. We stood on a hill in the summer light, smelling the flowers and listening to the sound of the water running in the streams. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She sat down in a bed of long grass, and looked out over the river, as she had so often done in the past. Her eyes were distant, and again, I wondered what it was that she saw. Her hair was now pure white, and it shone like silver in the light of the sun. Her face, though lined, had taken on a great beauty, and was fairer to look at than any of the faces of the other Children of the Realm.</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, she turned to me, with a smile that I had never seen on her face before. It was a smile with no pain, no guilt, and no grief behind it, and it brought tears to my eyes to see it. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Zarya,” she said, taking my hand, “the time has come for me to leave. Please do not be sad, for I have been waiting for this day for so many years. My friend death is coming to take me away, and I will not see you again here. Perhaps we shall meet again on the other side, but I do not know, for the ways of death are strange. But be strong, my daughter, and love this land and its people, and do not fear grief or hurt or loss, but only fear the lack of love.” </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then she kissed me on both cheeks, and embraced me again. She lay back in the grass, facing the river, and a sunbeam broke through a cloud and shone full upon her face. She looked straight into the light of the sun without blinking or turning away, and lifted up her hands to the light. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">For a moment, I thought I saw a raven fly overhead, wings outstretched, but then it was gone, and I could not be sure. And my mother, Vasilissa of the Summer Realm, closed her eyes and passed beyond our knowledge. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">While it it rare that one of our own passes, there are rites to be observed; some of the older ones left alive in the Realm knew of them, and explained them to me. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">We plucked armfuls of flowers from the fields, sun-drenched and warm, and piled them on a simple raft woven from the branches of the growing trees. When the raft was full of flowers and could hold no more, we put the body of my mother atop the pile, and she rested lightly on them. A bundle of sweet jasmine was tucked into her hands, and a crown of lilies was placed on her head. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">By the light of the first moon, we took the raft down to the river and set it in the water; it floated as though there were no weight on it at all. Torches lined the river, and their light was reflected in the water until the air was bright with it. We sang a final song for my mother; a song of thanks, of forgiveness, a song of love, and I loosed the final tie that bound the raft to shore. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The current quickly took it and in minutes it was out of sight around a bend in the river. I ran after it for a little while, following the craft as it weaved and bobbed through the river, the moonlight bright on my mother's white hair. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But then I came to the edge of a great sea, and the river opened into it, and sped the raft across it, and soon I could not make it out from the white caps of the waves. And that was the last I saw of my mother in this world. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Was she right? Shall I see her on the paths of the dead, or do my kind have a place in the world beyond death? I do not know, any more than she did, but this I do know. If there is any force in the world that can call us onward past the gates of death and into the light on the other wise, it is that of love. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Here endeth the story of Vasilissa of the Summer Realm. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-20976230373508970452010-11-30T22:55:00.000-08:002010-11-30T22:56:12.733-08:00Vasilissa the Wise<p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa the Wise</span></span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">the land did not quickly recover. So much had been done to it that it would never be the same. The dragon's breath had scorched it all, and the Grandmother of Witches had drawn out its powers to create her tower and rule. And though the tower was fallen and the rule broken, some things were always lost and would remain so. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The winds were no longer so warm and welcoming, the rain no longer so gentle when it began to fall again, and the curtains of color in the night sky not as vibrant. And this too, was part of our grief, but that is the way of things. And even here, in the Realm, things pass, and fade, only not as quickly.</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In time, the grass grew again, the rivers flowed, and the flowers bloomed. Again, the air was redolent with the scent of flowers, and the people stayed out to watch the stars. There were summer nights that lasted a thousand of the days of men, and we sang again of beauty, peace and happiness. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I think, perhaps, that I was gone too long from this world, or perhaps it was the years with my beloved Guidon. For whatever cause, though this is my home and here I shall stay, my heart is still restless, and I do not think it will find its rest here, or in the mortal world, or anywhere this side of the paths of the dead. It is a strange thing, to feel that part of one's self is forever beyond one's reach, but that is the only way I can describe it. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I shall not rush into death, for that is not the way that things must be, but when it appears it will be as a friend and not an intruder. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I wonder sometimes, of the world on the other side of the Great Gate. My people do not pass through any more, for we have no more desire to go into the world of men, but I still wonder. What season is it there? Have the little spring flowers begun to poke up through the snow? Are the horses running on the steppes with the wind in their manes and their nostrils wide to catch the scent of those who would catch them? And those of the race of men whom I loved, do their lines still continue? Do their grandchildren and great-grandchildren still speak their names with pride?</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Ah, these are not the questions of one of the Realm, but they are my questions. I lived too long in that world not to care about it, and to wonder. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But enough of such things. My story is almost at an end. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the first of the flowers began to spring up, I knew it was time. I journeyed to the Great Gate, and opened it with a word. It was difficult to open this time, and I knew that the magic would soon be gone, and the way closed forever. Perhaps a new Gate could be opened, but none of my people had any will to do so. I did not step through into the world of men, but called until a single bird flew through and perched on my finger. I whispered my instructions into the bird's ear, and it flew away again, straight as an arrow. I then went back to the city, which was being rebuilt slowly. New hedges had been planted, and were beginning to sprout up, and several of the people were at work shaping them into their careful patterns. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Time passed, until one day a cry went up from the road. I walked out, and over the hill I saw a woman with hair as bright as the sun at sunrise, red as the sun at sunset, and with a smile like the noonday. She was seated on a white horse, and before her flew a great raven. As she came over the hill, her hair was caught by a gust of wind, and flew out behind her like a banner. I could see that the eyes of all present were on her, and I could see in that moment that she would be a part of this world as I never could be again. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I walked up the path to meet her, and she saw me. For a moment, she looked confused, and I realized how different I must look to her. She had last seen me as a young woman, after the death of her father, when my hair was almost as bright as hers was now. Now she saw a woman with an aged face and silver hair. But before I could say a word, she had halted the horse and was running up the path. Throwing herself into my arms, she embraced me. “Mother,” she whispered, “I'm finally home.”</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And so Zarya came to live in the land that she had heard so many stories of in the nursery. Within a day, she was beloved of everyone, and her quick laugh could be heard echoing across the land at all hours. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">A feast was given in honor of her coming, and the people of the Realm lifted lights all along the road, and danced for hours under the shimmering curtain of colors. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I did not dance, but smiled and joined in the singing from my seat under one of the new trees that was growing. Viktor sat beside me, watching in silence. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">thank you,” I said quietly to him in a lull between songs, “for bringing my daughter.”</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I think she will be happy here,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the dancers. “She told me on the journey that she was tired of living among those who aged so fast and that she was ready to come to the place she had heard of so often.”</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Was she happy there?” I asked him in a rush. I had not thought of it until long after I had sent for her, and now I feared that I had only taken her away from a happy life to be imprisoned in a world that she had never known. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is good that you did not see the great cities of the land at the end of your time in the world of men,” he said, pausing to take a drink of wine. “Your kind can never be happy in such places, yet she was still waiting in the city where she had been sent, so that when your word came she would not miss it. She was happy to come, of that you have my assurance.”</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Silence fell between us then for a long time. I marveled for a moment at the strange path that our friendship had taken, from that first day in the little house in the clearing. I glanced at him as he watched the dancers, and I knew that he still saw only Tatiana. I would never know his story, I thought, and never understand why such a being as he would come to love one so ordinary as Tatiana had been. But that, perhaps, told me more about him than any story he could ever tell. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">This is the last time I will see you,” I said, already knowing the answer to my question. “Once more, you said, and then no one knows.”</span></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Yes. This is the last time we shall meet on this side of death.” And no more words passed between us, for what more can be said? Some friendship have no need of words to say what must be said. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And thus ends the story of my life, both strange and terrible. I would not wish it on any enemy, nor would I have lived any other. Let it be as it may. </span> </p> <p style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-37137933521909846592010-11-30T22:52:00.000-08:002010-11-30T22:54:58.989-08:00Vasilissa the Brave<p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Vasilissa the Brave</span></b></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Despite the darkness that still held sway over my heart, those hours in the air were some of the best of my life. Held aloft by hundreds of strong wings, feeling the wind in my face, hair streaming behind me like a banner, below clouds tinted rose and gold by the rising sun: even the Summer Realm had nothing like this. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Some time later, the flock of birds began to descend, slowly moving towards the earth again, and the ceiling of clouds receded into the distance. My feet, now bare, touched the grassy floor of the forest, and I stood in a sunlit clearing. The fallen trees had all rotted into the earth, and I wondered for a moment if I was in the right place. But there before me were the stones of the blasted Gate. The rock was still charred black, but the ground around it was soft and green again, as if no flame had ever touched it. I gingerly placed a hand on the stones; the power in them was disrupted; it felt jagged and rough, almost as though it would break through the stone. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I cast a glance over my shoulder, and the three men stood behind me, scattered sunlight glancing off their helmets. The three bowed slightly, and Viktor stepped forward.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">If you will permit it, Vasilissa of the Summer Realm, we would accompany into your land, for I think you will have need of it.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">In truth, I had no desire for accompaniment, for I fully expected to be met with a choking blast of fire and a quick death at the mouth of the dragon. But the refreshed forest gave me pause: if such destruction could recover, even in the passing mortal world, what of the Realm? Could it not be reborn as well?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">There is one last thing I must bring with me,” I said, remembering the old tree. “Let me retrieve it, and then we will go into the Realm, and see what is to be seen.”</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I darted off into the forest, and within an hour found where the tree had been. The blasted trunk had long since rotted away, my simple protective spells not enough to defend against the wear of time after such damage. But the stump had remained, and the hollow was safe. With a whispered charm, I opened the chamber, and drew out my treasures. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">The silver bridle still shone like the moon on clear water; it had been so long since I had been given it that its shape was unfamiliar. It seemed ancient, and it almost was, an artifact from a long-forgotten century. I tucked it into my belt, and unwrapped the next. The golden apple shone so brightly in the dim forest that it almost hurt my eyes. Even now, I could faintly smell the scent of Fyodr’s garden and it brought tears to my eyes. The apple fit in the large sleeve of the robe I wore, and I tucked it there securely, making sure that it would not fall out while I walked. Finally, the tiara, covered with diamonds and shining like the great night sky full of stars. I ran a hand over the delicate metalwork, remembering the look on Guidon’s face when I had worn it for the first time. We had danced at a great ball that his father had given in our honor; I think I hardly sat in my chair until morning broke, so eager was Guidon to dance with me. I could still see the look in his eyes...but no, now was not the time for such memories. I could not even think of Zarya at such a time; she would have the long life of my people, and I would send for her when I knew what awaited in the Realm. Now it was time to do what must be done. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">There was a sinking feeling in my heart; I knew that I could not hope for a quick death now. Something awaited me in the Summer Realm, and I must deal with what I found there without flinching. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">If you are waiting for me beyond death, my dearest Guidon, watch with me now. I would rather face death itself than this, but my fate is as it is, and it must be so.” With those whispered words, I turned back and joined the three men at the gate. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Viktor held out an old grey cloak, and I slipped it on, covering my form completely; I did not think even the Baba Yaga would know me now. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Then the three men were gone, and in their places stood an eagle, a hawk, and the largest raven I had ever seen. With a screech, the raven leapt up and perched on my shoulder. I placed my hand on the stone of the gate, and spoke the word that would open the way. The hawk glided at my back, the eagle soared over my head, and the raven perched on my shoulder: the time was now. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">There was a brief flash of green light, and I stepped through the blasted Gate. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br />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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do you swear it,” I pressed, “do you swear by the Realm itself?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She hesitated again, then nodded. “I swear, by the very Realm itself, that the third of it under the setting sun is now yours.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She nodded in approval, and slipped the bridle into her own belt, marveling at the reflections that the metal cast upon her clothing. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I had scarcely tossed the apple up and caught it in my hand before the Yaga came scurriyng down the steps again. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is just a plaything,” I said, reaching for the apple, but she pushed my hand away. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">It must be done. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">end it,” he whispered again, and resumed his silent watch as the hawk and eagle returned to circle around us.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I will not give you the rest of the Realm,” she snapped, “I will not be Queen of nothing!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then another step and we were through. “One minute only,” snapped the witch. But it was enough. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span></span> </p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.”</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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?”</span></span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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.” </span></span> </p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span></span> </p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span></span> </p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">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. </span></span> </p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the song was ended, we began to work. </span></span> </p> <p><br /><br /></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-18389302257809924462010-11-30T18:36:00.001-08:002010-11-30T18:36:46.101-08:00Vasilissa the Fool<p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa the Fool</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I stumbled through the snow and the blasted trees for days, unaware of my direction. I could not keep my mouth from babbling, over and over, “The dragon...the dragon in the Summer Realm...the blasted trees...” Everywhere I turned, I seemed to see the shadow of the dragon looming on the horizon, spreading its wings to cover the land, and I kept running. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was many miles before I came out of the destruction around the Gate, but I could never escape the sight that had been burned into my mind. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Time moves strangely enough for a child of the Summer Realm in the world of men, but when such an exile goes mad, it loses all meaning entirely. How long did I wander? I do not think I can ever know. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The snows gave way to a cold spring, and then to summer, and still I wandered. When I happened to pass near a village, the people would sometimes take pity on me and give me bread or cheese, and I ate without thinking. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The seasons passed, summer into fall, fall into winter, winter into spring, and around and around again and again. The shadow of the dragon lay long across the land, and I marveled that all around me were blind to it. Great machines of war moved across the land. They had bodies of cold iron and harsh steel, and the fire of the dragon spewed from them. The machines tore into the forces of men, wreaking destruction and death. Blood ran thick through the mud churned up by the chains of the machines. I thought such machines could have come from the mind of Koschei himself, so full of fire and iron were they. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There were deep trenches in the mud, and wire like thorns stretched for miles. The rains poured down and filled the trenches with water and blood, and the bodies of men lay facedown in the mire. Strange clouds rose and moved across the land, leaving men choking and gasping in their wake. I saw men burned all over, burned by the cloud, and screaming to die, and yet they did not die. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">One summer, I found myself in a small town in the west of the land. I shuddered to see the shadow of the dragon again in my fractured mind, and wandered the town until nightfall. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the stars began wheeling overhead, I was still wandering the town, mind whirling with images of fire and ash, blood and cloud and mire, and the screams of those who could not die.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In the stillness of the night, when the darkest was at its greatest, I heard a shout coming from the basement of a house, and then the sound of gunshots. Clapping my hands over my ears, I fell to my knees in the snow, and wailed, “The dragon! The dragon spreads his wings over the land, and there is no-one left to stand against him! The shadow of the dragon falls!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I saw them carry the bodies out of the basement, so many, so many bodies, and there was blood on the path.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In the west, an iron eagle rose, and its soldiers marched with blood red banners and a broken cross. Soon it reached out to take the lands already claimed by the dragon, and the air was filled with smoke that smelled like burning flesh. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Winter came, and the snow fell hard. My wanderings took me to a great city by the sea, and the soldiers of the iron eagle hemmed it in on every side. Inside the city, men shuffled slowly to jobs that could not buy bread, for there was no bread to be had. Women cried when they could give their children no food, and the children cried for the pain in their stomachs. I saw the bodies build up, and yet the city did not fall. Even as they lay dying, the people refused to surrender, and in the midst of so much ugliness was a kind of harsh beauty, and I wept because of it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In time, the iron eagle faded, and the air no longer stank of smoke. But the blood did not stop, and everywhere I turned I found the roar of the dragon in my ears. Raving, I wandered through the land, and I could not escape it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The little churches, of the kind that I had come to love during my life in the village, were torn down or used for other purposes, and I saw the painted face of many a saint go up in smoke. I grieved for their loss, for though I did not believe in the world they portrayed, I knew I would miss their beauty. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The seasons kept up their dance, passing by too quickly for me to even notice them. Finally, in the snows of the frozen north, I knew it was over. My mind was gone, whirled into madness at the sight of the dragon breathing flame over the burnt cinders of the Summer Realm, but my heart had never given up, and had impelled me in my wanderings. But even that was now giving out. The Summer Realm, gone. Guidon, gone. Even the things I had loved about the world of men, gone. I did not know what might await me on the other side of death, but I knew that even oblivion would be preferable to madness. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">My feet slowed their restless wandering, slowed again, and finally stopped. The snow was falling thick, and the world around me was hidden behind its curtain of grey. Off in the distance, I could see a small hut, with a single candle burning in the window. Behind me were the woods, but I had no will left to walk into them, but dropped to my knees in the snow where I stood.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Let this be an end to it, then,” I whispered, the madness parting for a moment as I fell. Then I lay in silence, and spoke no more. In minutes, the snow had covered me and I knew no more.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Even now, I am not sure how long I lay covered in the snow. My mind drifted where it would, into the abyss and beyond. Perhaps I was there for years, or only hours. There is no way to know, and in the end, it does not matter. I do know that after a period of time in which my madness took control and I knew not who or where I was, I came to myself somewhat, and found myself in a small room where a saint with gold-painted face looked over me. In the corner of the room knelt a man in a rough brown robe, and I could faintly hear the clicking of wooden beads as he whispered his prayers. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I did not move, but looked around the room. It was simple, with bare walls save for the single painted saint, and a small box of earth that held several crude candles of varying lengths. Soot from the candles had stained the wall, and the room smelt of wax, incense, and sweat. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As I lay quietly, feeling warmth slowly come back to my limbs, I noticed that for the first time in many years, the shadow of the dragon no longer lay long across my mind, and I could reason again. The memories of all that I had seen were still strong, and full of horror, but I was myself once more. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the robed man rose from his knees with a grunt, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, and he did not investigate further. For two more days, I kept up the pretense, waiting and watching. He did nothing save a few chores to keep his cottage in order, partake in meals of the ultimate simplicity, and say his prayers for hours every day. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I caught glimpses of his face, risking a quick glance when his attention was elsewhere. He was a middle-aged man, with streaks of grey in his dark hair and beard. Both were tidy, but not often brushed or trimmed. He never spoke, save in prayer, though I heard him hum a chant melody from time to time. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">After several days had passed in this manner, I decided that he was no servant of the dragon, nor a practitioner of any of the cruelties I had seen in my wanderings. So when he returned to the house carrying a bucket of water, he found me sitting on the edge of the little cot, watching him in silence. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He made a sign to ward against evil, and I saw his lips move in a quick and silent prayer, but he did not shout. After a minute of staring at each other, he slowly set the bucket of water down it its usual place near the fire, and set about the work of stoking the flames with wood that sat nearby. When the fire was roaring again, he sat in front of it and watched me in silence. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">After some time had passed and he showed no signs of breaking the silence, I finally decided to speak. “Where am I?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">In Russia. Approximately one hundred and twenty miles north of Novosibirsk, though I've never been certain of the exact distance.” His voice was rough, almost rusty, and I wondered how often he found occasion to speak, surrounded by wilderness as he was.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">you'll have to excuse me,” he continued, tossing another log onto the fire. “I see so few souls out here, I am afraid I have lost the knack for conversation. Was never good at it anyway. Truth be told, human conversation is frowned upon, though not completely forbidden.” He eyed me carefully, green eyes intent and focused. “However, I am of the thought that you are not human, or not entirely. The question is, what are you?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">At one time, such a question would have had me on my feet in an instant, summoning the forces of the earth to convince the questioner, or at least standing tall and proclaiming my heritage. But I could barely even sit up. I still felt weak, and my heart was sick with all that I had witnessed since my disastrous attempt to return home. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I am Vasilissa of the Summer Realm. I do not know what your people call my kind, or if any of them even know of us. They are all dead now, and I am the last.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Simply speaking the words, giving voice to my deepest fears, felt like a red hot poker in my belly, a lance of iron through the heart. I dropped my eyes, and did not gaze further than my hands, folded cautiously in my lap. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Silence fell again, and the man did not speak again for some time. After it had grown dark outside, he got up from his prayers and cut a rough loaf of bread into large slices and gave me one, along with some soft cheese. It was not fine food, but very filling. I did not remember the last time I had eaten, and the bread was soon gone. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I am sorry I do not have more to offer,” he said, staring into the fire. “The life of a hermit does not permit for excess, and I never bake more bread than I can eat in a few days. I will bake more tomorrow, and make more cheese. The goat does not produce much milk, but it is enough.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">forgive me, I had not meant to intrude,” I started, but was surprised when he began to laugh, a funny barking sound. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Intrude? I plucked you from the snow, on my way back from the forest to chop wood. I knew then you were no human being, for you lay in the snow breathing, though you were covered in ice. Any human would have been long dead, but not you.” He took a bite of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. “Perhaps it was not the best idea to bring you here. I am sworn to solitude, and women are certainly forbidden. But I am afraid I am unaware of any rules concerning the fey. Perhaps I ought to sprinkle you with holy water, just to be sure.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I blinked, for he seemed to be laughing at me with his eyes, but I was unsure. “I was mad, out of my mind after seeing the destruction of my land. I shall leave you to your solitude; my mind is my own now, and I thank you for your kindness.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He shook his head, and waved me back to the cot. “No, forgive me, I am unused to talking to anyone but myself or the Lord, and I was not clear. It is my joy to help, and my duty to show hospitality to any that the Lord sends my way. He sent you, and in His name, I welcome you. You surely would not deprive me of doing my duty, would you?” And again, I thought he laughed.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The next few days passed in similar manner; I made many offers to leave, but he protested that it was his joy to share what he had, and that I was a guest sent by his God. I spent many hours in rest, letting my thoughts wander back over the strange course of my life. Every moment, I saw in my memory the fire and ash of the few moments I had glimpsed into the Summer Realm, and I still saw the dragon, that seven-headed beast with sea creature's tentacles, roaring out his fiery bile over the land. Surely none of my race could survive such an inferno.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">How had the dragon come? In all the stories I had heard in my youth, it was simply that: a story. The dragon, evil from beyond time itself, imprisoned in the void between the stars, condemned to darkness forever, and forever desiring to burn the world of earth and water. But there were always rumors that if one had the will, the desire, the knowledge, and the power, and knew the moments when the stars would be aligned properly, the dragon could be called down. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There was only one being I knew with the the desire for such horrors, and the power to summon the creature. Only the Baba Yaga could have done it; Koschei desired to rule himself, and he was but a pale shadow of what he had once been. No, the grandmother of witches was the only one. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I forced my mind to go back to the last moments outside the Gate. I had been so focused on what lay beyond the Gate that I had taken no notice of its stones. I journeyed back, trying my best to recall everything of my surroundings. So much of the area had been burnt and charred black. But the stones had a face that was protected from the Gate...had I seen it? Yes...Yes, I had placed my hand there for a moment before speaking the words that opened the Gate. My fingers had touched something that stained the stone, but could never be entirely washed away, nor burned clean. Blood. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">It would not have been that hard to do, perhaps. To wait near the Gate until some child of the Summer Realm came through with guard down. Perhaps she, or her puppet Koschei, had lain in wait, capturing their prey and holding him until the stars aligned. And then...A few words of power, perhaps a few etched symbols on the skin of the victim, and finally the sharp flash of a knife. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Blood opens many things that were better shut. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I will never know exactly what happened to open the gate, and any who do know cannot tell me. Perhaps it is better so; it is best not to learn the details of some evils. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">However it had happened, she must have gotten inside and from there, found a place from which to wait until the time was right to open the way for the dragon. It would not have been difficult. There were no guards nor warriors in the Summer Realm to keep watch. Once upon a time, when my people warred with the goblins and other creatures of darkness that inhabited the land before the age of man, the warriors of Hyperborea were the greatest ever seen. But that was long before I was born, and most of those who had known that time of war had grown tired, and passed into death. And while they took with them the memories of fear and death and bloodshed, they also took the last of our knowledge of defense. Even if we had been able to raise an army, we should not have known what to do with it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">And so the Grandmother of Witches and her puppet Koschei would have slipped through the Gate with little note, and made their preparations in peace. And then, when the stars were right, the dragon came down in a blast of fire. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I felt numb inside. For so many years, I had wandered with an aching heart, trying to find a way back to my land. Then the years with Guidon, wanting nothing more than one more day with him. Now I had neither, and no place on earth to call home. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">One day as I walked through the woods near the hermit’s hut, I saw the first hints of new green growth pushing up through the last of the snow. Spring would be here soon, though there would be weeks of cold yet to come. A gust of wind blew a few strands of hair over my shoulder, and I was astonished to see that they were grey. Reaching behind me, I pulled the mass of my hair forward; it was pale and shone like silver. Hurrying to a pool of water, I looked in. My face was similar to the face that I had known so long, but aged beyond what could be called youth, though I did not look old by the standards of mortals. This was no glamor, no appearance of age that I had cast on for disguise, but something else, something I had only seen on the very oldest of my people. And behind this new face was a cascade of silver, hair turned pale from the century of madness. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I heard a shout and looked up to see the hermit pointing to the horizon. A large black cloud was rising, faster than any storm cloud I had ever seen. It moved toward us with a sound of rushing water. I stood rooted to the spot; something about the cloud seemed familiar. As it grew closer, I finally saw that it was not a cloud, after all, but a flock of birds so large that it blocked out the sun. As the sky darkened, the birds swept here and there around me, and suddenly three men stood in the woods. The first was dressed all in bronze, and he bore a helmet with the wings of a hawk emblazoned on it. The second was a young man all in rich brown leather, with hair the color of honey, and on his helmet were the wings of the eagle. The third man was familiar to me: Viktor, armored in ebony, with his black beard brushing his chest, and bearing the sign of the raven. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">The other two looked at him, and Viktor nodded and stepped forward. “Vasilissa, you have wandered long enough. It is time you returned to the Summer Realm. It is your world, and where you belong, and the world will be incomplete until you return.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I looked down at my feet, wrapped in rags and sinking into the soft earth. “I cannot go home now. The dragon has been summoned, and the Summer Realm is nothing but fire and ash now.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">so it might have been, when you first set foot there a hundred years ago as men reckon it,” he replied, his voice as deep and steady as a waterfall. “But all things change, even in that world, and you must return. You cannot stay here, and this is known to you as well.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I have lived here for hundreds of years, why not stay? Why not find a little cottage in a clearing, and live there forever? What of your own houses? You are not of the world of men any more than I, yet here you stay.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">The birds that whirled overhead let out an ominous shriek. “And perhaps one day you will know our stories, as we know yours, and then you may judge.” The man with the eagle wings on his helmet spoke with a voice that sounded like a great bell. “But until that day, do not presume to speak of what you do not know.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">There was a tense silence, broken only by the sounds of the birds winging through the sky. The monk had long since retreated to his hut. Finally, I spoke.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">So be it. I will return.” If the Realm still burns, I thought to myself, at least I can throw myself into the flames, and be done with it.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">The three men bowed slightly to acknowledge my words, and Viktor spoke again. “you have a day to prepare. At sunrise tomorrow, we will come for you. Be ready and wait for us at the edge of the forest.” And with that, the birds descended again, whirling like a great storm, and when they arose into the air a moment later, the three men were gone.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">When I opened the door of the hut, I found the monk kneeling, whispering his prayers feverishly. I closed the door to keep out the chill of the early spring air, and waited. When he was gone, he got to his feet.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">I thank you greatly for your hospitality,” I said, voice low and steady, “and for all you have done to bring me to health again. But now I must return to my home. I leave tomorrow with the dawn.”</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">He nodded, saying nothing. The hut was still for a long time as he went about his daily tasks, and I sat, thinking about the journey ahead. As night fell, he stoked the fire again until the whole room was warm, then sat in front of it with his back to the flames, prodding the fire with an old charred stick.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">It was still dark when I arose the next morning, and dawn was only a thin grey line on the horizon. The hermit had been sleeping in the stable while I was on the cot, and I walked by the small shed quietly so as not to disturb his sleep. I had only taken a few steps out the door, when I heard his rough voice calling from the shed. “A moment, before you leave.” He hurried through the door, his rough brown robe a poor protection from the cold. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">His voice was still husky from sleep, and he spoke quickly, stumbling over his words. “I still do not know what you are, nor do I have any idea why the Lord brought you to my doorstep. But I know in my heart that all things are coming together, that this is the path for you. And I will keep you in my prayers as you journey. And so, dasvedanya. Go with God, Vasilissa.” He slipped the string of wooden beads from his wrist, and pressed them into my hands.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Take these with you, as a reminder of my prayers. I believe God is at work even among your kind, and He will show you what you must do.” I stood, fingering the beads, and wondering if I should give them back. But the gesture had been kindly meant, and it was clear that he placed a great amount of faith in the beads. I slipped them onto my own wrist, doubling the loop of string so that it would not fall off, for the circlet was made for much larger hands than mine.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Thank you...” I began, and realized with a start that I had never learned his name. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">In the dim grey light, I could just make out a smile on his bearded face. “Athos. My name is Brother Athos.” </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">“</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">Thank you, Athos,” I finished. “I only wish I had something to give you in return. But I have faith that no deed of kindness goes unrewarded, and may your reward be great indeed.” </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">With that, I turned, and left the world of men behind for the last time. Whatever might come, this was the end of something that could never come again. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;">The three men stood waiting at the edge of the wood. Wordlessly, I approached them and stood quietly. As the glowing edge of the sun broke over the rim of the world, the air was suddenly full of birds, and I was among them, borne up into the dawn. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-79385033009940237082010-11-28T08:50:00.000-08:002010-11-28T08:51:15.730-08:00To the Gate<span style="font-family:Verdana;">The destruction grew as I neared the gate. There was not a single tree standing, nor any sign of life. What had been a thriving forest was now a dead place, silent under the snow. </span><p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I found the Gate, and it still stood for no known force could destroy such a thing, but even the air around it felt wrong. It felt as though there were a thousand tiny rips in the walls that separated the two worlds, opening and closing with no pattern or plan. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">But the way through the Gate was no longer barred to me, and I summoned all of my strength. I spoke the words of opening carefully and clearly, and prepared for the warmth of a sudden summer breeze and the scent of the Realm to waft through the Gate. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Fire and ash blasted my face, and I stumbled back, coughing and retching. My clothing had caught fire in the heat that came from the other side of the Gate, and I slapped at the flames. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When I finally looked through the Gate, I saw a horrifying landscape. What had been a long rolling expanse of grass, leading down to a set of gardens, was now burned black, with glowing embers beneath, as if the bedrock itself were melting away. The air, which once had been filled with the scent of flowers and running water, was choked with floating ash and smoke. The sun's light filtered dimly through the clouds, shining a ghastly orange. No tree stood within the Summer Realm as far as I could see. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">And the screaming...I did not know what could be left alive in all that destruction to scream so loudly, but the hills echoed with the sound. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I lifted up my eyes to the distant hills, where the great city of the Realm had once stood, and what I saw there unmade my mind. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">For the gardens of the city were gone, turned to piles of cinders, and over it all towered a dragon, reaching out across the land with vast wings, and tentacles like some monster from the depths of the sea.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When next I looked around me, I was running through the snows of the human world, crying and babbling. Vasilissa, the exile of the Summer Realms, had gone mad.</span></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-91368084150132634032010-11-28T01:08:00.000-08:002010-11-28T01:11:08.687-08:00Tsar Saltan<p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I walked along the road for several days, keeping to myself, building my own fire at night, and carefully casting the salt circle any time I stopped. There was no sign of the Baba Yaga, nor of Koschei, though I did not let my guard down again. Eventually, I came to the coast of the sea, and far out in the waters beyond the sight of men, I could see an island. The road was desolate, and there were no other travelers for as far as I could see. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The wind from off the sea was cold, and I wrapped my cloak around myself more tightly as I stood and watched the waves crashing against the rocks. As night came on, it grew harder to tell where the rocks dropped off into the empty air, and I backed away from the cliff. Casting my salt circle again, I lit a fire in the center, and sat with my back to the blaze, eyes still out to the ocean. There was a strange quietness in my spirit, a sense of waiting. Long gone were the protestations of the exile, one cast from her land into a cold world of suffering and hardship. Gone as well were the grievings of a human heart bereft of a friend, wailing its loss into the void. In their place was a stillness, and I knew somehow that the time of exile was not much longer now. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The waves crashed throughout the cold night, and I watched as the sun slowly rose to cast its light on the sea. When the rays first touched the water, I thought I could see something on the shore of the island that lay beyond the sight of men. I could not make out what it was, but it disappeared beyond a hill on the island, and was lost even to my sight. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I looked to see what would happen next, but a sound from the road made me turn around. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Coming up the inland path was a dark rider on a dark horse, and his eyes were all aflame. His clothing was all in rags and tatters, and his hair was matted. His horse was no longer the gleaming coal-black stallion I had once seen, but a stinking nag with black hair matted with mud and its own filth. I had no doubt that it could still run like the wind, but it was not the horse it had been. Koschei himself looked thin and grey, almost as though he was fading. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And there she is,” he breathed, “the feygirl who simply refuses to die. The Yaga told me that the wind and snow would take care of you in a season or two, but I could not believe that putting an end to you would be so simple. And behold, a week ago on the road I caught the faintest hint of that magic, those spells that have something of the sun and green growing things behind it, so noticeable in this cold land. And here you are, standing proud as though you never once cowered at my feet.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">you make a poor knight, Koschei,” I replied, knowing that he could not cross my circle. “The grandmother of witches must be riding you hard to make you appear so ill-favored.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He snarled. “I am master of my own fate, no witch controls me! But dare to step outside your circle for a moment, that we might fight fully-matched, and you will see the extent of my power.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Laughing, I replied. “Think you that I will step outside merely to prove anything to you? Truly, your powers of thought at least have declined greatly.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">We stood in silence for a long time; I had no desire to provoke a battle with my old enemy, and he was unable to break my circle. Then, with a slow smile, he began a deep chant, so quietly that I could not hear him at first. The song rose in volume and power, until at last I thought that it seemed to come from the rocks themselves. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A sound like thunder covered the land, and a cloud seemed to lift into the air from the forest. It was a great flock of ospreys, talons glinting in the sunlight; they soared through the air, legs outstretched as if hunting their prey. They swept closer, but I knew that any creature under the control of a spell would be stopped by my circle. Only the things of nature alone, acting in innocence, could pass through the salt circle, and such things could do me no harm. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">But then, I saw the line of creatures running across the grass. There were hundreds of them, thousands, more than I could count. I saw rabbits, squirrels, weasels, and other creatures, all running like possessed things in their desire to escape the sharp beaks of the ospreys. In a moment, the ground at my feet was a roiling mass of fur and claws, and the air was full of feathers; I lifted my arms to protect my face. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When I looked out again, the crowd of creatures had dispersed, for the ospreys had scattered. But the damage had been done; all of those little hurrying paws had scattered my salt circle over the ground, and there was not a trace of it that remained. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Koschei smiled terribly, and his teeth were yellow. With a word, the ground burst into fire in front of me. I jumped back, dodging the blow, and let fly a charm of my own. His horse reared and neighed as vines leapt from the ground and reached up to entangle its legs. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I knew that I could not hold out against him in this kind of battle for long. He had studied these arts far more than I, and he knew more spells and charms. I must get away quickly. I called the dust of the ground into the air, and sent it into his eyes in a blinding cloud. When he was finally able to see again, I had already taken to the air in the form of a swan. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">His attacks came again, but with less accuracy as I flew farther away, out to the sea. My great white wings were strong and steady, and I climbed quickly through the air. Below me was the island, and I could see two figures on the shore. I did not have time to wonder about this, however, for my plight was far from over. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">With a flutter of feathers, Koschei had transformed himself into an osprey. I strove to gain more distance, but the osprey is a swift bird, made for catching and killing, and with Koschei's anger to drive him, he came on like a whirlwind. It would be only a few moments before he caught me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There was a shout from the island, but I paid it no heed, rushing further out to sea, trying to summon up the wind to give me speed. But it was all in vain. I felt the osprey's talons sink into my wing, and they burned like fire. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then with a jolt, the osprey released me, and we both tumbled down into the sea. My wing was useless, but I managed to float, and turned around to see Koschei struggling in the waves, an arrow sticking from his side. I struck at him with my beak, over and over, until the bedraggled feathered form sank below the waves. This would not be enough to kill him, I knew, but it would be some time before he would wash up on a beach and longer yet to regain his powers. It was not an end, but a respite.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I struggled toward the shore of the island, and a young man with a bow slung over his shoulder came wading to me through the breakers. He brought me ashore, and spread out my wings upon the grassy beach to dry. When I had recovered my breath, I turned to look at this young man who had fired the arrow at my pursuer. He was no more than twenty-five, with hair the color of beaver pelt, and a fine beard. He was dressed simply, in clothes that seemed to have been patched from many other items, but he wore his strange clothes with no sense of shame. He sat on a sunny spot and watched me as I regained my breath, and collected myself. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I thank you for your help, young sir,” I said, and though he was startled by the sight of a talking swan, he seemed to take it in stride. “If I may be of any service to you, it would be my honor to repay my great debt, for I owe you my life.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And how can you, a swan, do anything for me?” he asked, though he smiled as he did so. “I am in exile from my father's lands, and the walls of the palace are barred against me.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">That is a strange fate for one so young. You had better tell me how it came about.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He stretched on on the grass, and turned his face upwards to meet the sun. His cheeks were ruddy with exposure to the wind and sun, but he had the glow of good health. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It all began with my mother, who used to live in her father's cabin with her two older sisters. One winter day, they all sat around the fire working on their sewing, and they began to talk of marriage, as young women do. The oldest sister told the others, 'If I were the tsarina, I would bake a great feast for the tsar and all his guests. Then everyone in the land would know that he had married the greatest cook in the world.' 'Well, if I were tsarina,' the middle sister replied, 'I would weave a great tapestry for the tsar, and it would hang in the throne room that everyone would know he had married the best seamstress in the land.' My mother, the youngest of the three, kept quiet, but the other two teased her until she made a reply. 'If I were tsarina,' she said, 'I would want to bear the tsar a strong healthy son, to be a great champion for him.' Her older sisters laughed at her, but a few moments later they heard a knock at the door. When their father opened it, the tsar stepped into the cottage. He had been hunting in the woods around the house, and had overheard the conversation. Then and there, he asked for my mother's hand in marriage. She agreed and went to live in his palace; the tsar brought her two sisters along to be the palace baker and seamstress. Within three months of the marriage, my mother was pregnant with me. My father the tsar was overjoyed. But soon he got word that his armies in the east were under attack, and he was needed to command the troops. With a heavy heart, he took leave of my mother, and went out to the troops, commanding the household that a message be sent to him as soon as the child was born. I was born in great health, and a joyful message was sent to my father. But my aunts waylaid the messenger, and after plying him with wine and dates, took the message and replaced it with another one. What that one said, I do not know: my mother saw her sisters from a high window, but could not read the message. When a reply came back from my father, there was a great deal of weeping in the household, for it commanded a terrible thing. My mother protested, telling the story of the false message, but there was no help for it: what the tsar commanded must be done. So my poor mother, weeping as if her heart would break, was put into a large barrel, and I was placed in her arms. The barrel was nailed shut and painted with tar to seal it, then we were thrown in the sea. For several days the waves tosses us back and forth before we came ashore on this island. This is where I grew up, and is the only land I have ever known. But sometimes I wish greatly to see my father's lands, and to see him face to face, for my mother loves him greatly.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I sat and watched him for a moment. He was happy in this simple life, and I knew that entering the world of his fellow men would bring with it great grief and trouble, especially when the whole court had been turned against him. But such was his place, with his people, and it was not to me to say no when it was within my power to help him. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I can help you come to your father's lands again, and I think he will welcome you with open arms when he hears your story. But you may see many strange things before you come to his lands, so be stout of heart and do not fail in courage. Now, take me to your mother that I may meet her.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He rose to his feet and lead the way around the shore to the small bay where his mother stood. She had just washed her hair, and was brushing it in the wind to dry it. She was a small woman and almost looked younger than her son. Her hair was long and dark, though a few strands had turned to silver. She was still a very beautiful woman. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He told the morning's story to his mother, who seemed taken aback by the idea. She studied me for a long moment, and I could see that her eyes were full of pain. After a time, she spoke quietly. “It is the greatest wish of my heart that my beloved husband see the son I bore for him. If you can do this, I will thank you from the depths of my soul.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I rose into the air, and summoned all of my knowledge and skill. I opened my beak, and a song came pouring out, a song of power and praise of all things beautiful. It was a song of the cities of men, their stature and grandeur; when I had finished, a city stood upon the hill at the center of the island. Its stones gleamed in the daylight, and the walls rose high into the sky. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The mother, Priya, and her son Guidon stood gaping at the city, and I invited them to see it. They walked into the walled city, and I glided through the air above them. The city was little more than a glamor, but it had substance, and would last a year or two as long as I stayed on the island to keep the charms anchored. I was exhausted, and drained of power, but the city stood strong. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">All that year, I glided out across the sea, searching for boats to bring to the island. Many shipwrecked travelers washed ashore there and began a new life in the city, and word began to spread of the city of opportunity on the little island. Within a season, the city was a bustling place, and we traded with every boat that came to the shore, for where the sea met the far shore of the island was a rich salt bed, of the highest quality. Our goods went out across the land, and the ships came in and left again, telling stories of the marvelous city that had sprung up on the deserted island. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was only a matter of time before such stories reached the ears of the tsar himself, and a ship soon docked in the back with his emissaries aboard. When I saw the flag of the tsar flying from the mast of the ship, I quickly flew through the window of the palace. I found Guidon looking over the books from one of the latest trades. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Quickly, Guidon, put on your best clothes and go down to the dock. A ship is there that has been sent by your father, and they will want to see everything on the island here. You must present yourself as duke of fine breeding, but do not tell them who your father is.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">What?” he asked, surprised. “But surely my father will wish to know that I am his son! Even if he turns me away, then he will at least know I am here!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I shook my head. “These are only his emissaries, and if they take back the story that there is a young man who claims to be heir to the tsar, what do you think will happen? The tsar will have no proof, and he will begin to worry that you plot against his throne. Soon, armies will come upon the island, and all will be lost. No, wait until he comes to see you for himself; then he will see you and your mother, and know that everything you say is true.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon went to the window and looked out over the bay. I could feel his desire to go down to the ships and tell them everything. My heart ached for him; hadn't I done the same when I visited the great Gate? It was a part of exile, this longing for home, and it must be borne until the time was right. Finally, he lifted his eyes, and turned to me. “Yes, of course you're right. It's no good to spoil all of your work in building this city by moving too quickly.” Silently, he pulled on a fine coat and fur hat, then put on his best boots and went down to the docks. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The men from his father's court stood on the docks, looking at the city. He greeted them graciously, introducing himself as Duke Guidon. He took the men into the city, where they could not stop looking about. The walls were made of good stone, polished until it shone, and gold ornaments topped every house. The city was busy and sounds of commerce echoed off the walls. It was a grand city, and they whispered among themselves as to how such a city could come to be on an island that had been so empty the year before. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The men were invited to sleep in the palace for the night, and Guidon hosted a grand banquet. There were musicians, and jugglers, and dancers, and the finest food that money could buy. The banquet lasted long into the night, and in the morning when the men were ready to depart again, their eyes were still wide with the wonder of the little island. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">They boarded their ship, promising to pass Guidon's greetings along to the tsar. As the boat pulled away from the dock and caught the wind, Guidon turned and walked away from the city, out onto the grassy beach. When no-one on the ship could see him, he threw himself into the warm grass and wept. I landed nearby, but said nothing. His grief was palpable, and sobs shook his body. Finally, his breathing grew less ragged, and he sat up, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. “My apologies, my dearest swan. The city you created is perfect, and I am sure that they will bring wonderful reports to my father.” With great effort, he kept his voice even, but I could hear the thickness in his throat that came after tears. He did not look at me, but kept his eyes on the disappearing sails of the ship.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You wish to see your father's land more than ever now,” I said quietly. After a moment, he nodded, still looking out to the horizon. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I think it is just as well that we find out what your father's emissaries have to report.” I spoke a few words quietly, and in a flash, the young man shrank down and became a bee, darting here and there above the grass. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Hurry, for you can still reach the ship,” I told him. “Hide near the top of the mast to remain dry and stay there until the ship docks at your father's court. Follow the men and see what they have to say.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">My words had scarcely ceased when he buzzed off over the waves, barely above the spray. I feared that he would wet his wings and be lost to the water, but he kept on steadily. I took to the air again, and made my way back to the palace where Guidon's mother, Priya, sat in a chair knitting. She looked up as I landed. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">My son did not come back from the docks.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">He is on the ship, disguised as a bee. He has gone to see his father's court, and to hear what the emissaries have to report about the island. I expect him back in a few weeks.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She worked in silence for a time, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the corner that kept the stone room warm. Then she spoke, so quietly that I almost did not hear her, “You should not have let him go. It is dangerous, and he may never return.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">We need to know what happens in the tsar's court when the men make their report. And he wished to see his father; I could not bear to hear him grieve so.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And my grief if my son is lost to me forever? You have great power, swan, but I do not think that you can return life once it is gone.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I pondered that for a moment. Of course, it would be a moment's work to summon the lord of the ravens, but I had done so twice in the past. If Guidon really were to perish, would I ask to bring him back, or let his soul go on to whatever waited for men after death? I did not know. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A fortnight later, a ship crossed the horizon on the open sea, and in a few hours, I heard the buzzing of a bee. I spoke the word to undo my charm, and an exhausted Guidon lay on the grass. He was too tired to stand, but he smiled broadly, and it lightened my heart to see it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Ah, my dearest swan,” he said, “my father has a very fine court. His palace is all of stone, with many fine hangings. When my father's men got off the ship, I hid in the hat of the leader, and waited until we were in the throne room itself.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He paused, and I prodded, “And did you see your father, my dear Guidon?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">He was grander by far than any palace, and greater to my eye than any city in the world. His hair is the same color as my own, and his beard hangs full upon his breast. I think he still misses my mother, for he has not taken another wife. When the men came to the throne room, the whole court was there. Even my aunts were there: I knew them, for they looked like my own dear mother, only not so sweet and kind.” At this, he lifted himself onto his elbows. “Oh, I must greet my mother, she will be worried!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finish your story first, my dear Guidon, then see her. I am anxious to hear it all!” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He continued. “The emissaries made their report, and our beautiful city was quite wondrous to them. My father leaned forward, listening with great interest, but my aunts sulked in the corner of the room. Truth be told, I think that they had expected him to marry one of them! Then an old woman came forward, I heard it whispered that she was the matchmaker, and that she stood to gain a grand fee if she could find a new wife for the tsar. She said, 'Oh, this city is nothing. I have heard tell of a far country where a squirrel sits under a tree and gnaws on nuts all day long. But these nuts are no ordinary ones, for their shells are gold and the kernels are gems. Now that is a true wonder!' My father's attention turned to her while she spoke, then he addressed the emissaries. 'Indeed, this would be quite the wonder!' I do not think he will come here when there are such wonders in the world, but in truth, I almost do not care, for now I have seen my father.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">With that, he sprang to his feet and walked into the city to greet his mother. As he told his story, I could see many emotions cross her face. When he told of seeing her two unfaithful sisters, her face darkened, but the moment Guidon spoke of the tsar, her face was filled with a great light, though I could see that her heart was near to breaking at the thought Guidon's father. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When he finished, she stood up and embraced him, and lead him to sit in the chair by the fire. I caught a glance she cast my way, and I knew that both of us worried the same thing. For now, Guidon was happy with simply having seen his father, but how long would that satisfy him?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Within the week, I was soaring over the beach when I saw Guidon below, sitting and looking out to the horizon where his father's lands lay. I landed in the grass beside him, and waited for him to speak. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I know I said that I was content to simply see my father, but my heart is aching with desire for him to come here, to see me as I am, and to know me as his son. I do not think that there is anything here that will draw him.” His voice was quiet and steady, but I heard a note of deep pain in it. We sat together a long time, looking out over the ocean, then I spoke. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do not fear, my dear Guidon. I will bring you a great wonder which will catch the attention of the tsar. You shall not be fatherless forever; take heart, and be of good hope.” I took to the air again, and soared far out over the ocean, back toward the coast. When I returned the next day, I held a chattering squirrel in a rough wooden cage. Returning to the palace, I bid the ironmonger make a large cage of steel and overlay it with gold. When it was finished, the squirrel was placed inside, and the cage placed at the foot of a large tree that grew in the middle of the palace grounds. With a few whispered words, the spell was cast. From the tree, a few golden nuts fell into the cage. The squirrel picked one up, and, cracking it, pulled out a shining emerald. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The spell would not hold long, I knew, but it was linked to the magic I had used to create the city, and as long as the city stood, the gold and gems would hold their glamor. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the next morning came, I brought Guidon and Priya down to the tree to see the squirrel in its cage. Guidon was delighted, and exclaimed, “Now my father must visit, for this is a true wonder! He has said so himself!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The days passed, and soon another trading ship docked in our port. As it was being loaded with salt, and goods for our market were being carried into the city, Guidon greeted the merchants. He had dressed in his finest robes again, and looked every inch the young duke. With open arms, he welcomed the merchants to the palace where he had planned another banquet. On the way to the banquet hall, he took them by the tree where the squirrel sat, gnawing on the golden shells of the nuts that fell from the tree. A guard had been appointed to stand by the cage, collecting the gems as the squirrel cracked the nuts open. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The merchants were amazed, and all through the banquet their eyes were distant, and I knew that they were calculating the wealth that must come from the gold and gems every day. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The next day, Guidon bid them farewell, and to commend him to the tsar, with an invitation for the tsar to visit whenever he desired. The ship's sails caught the wind, and in moments it glided out of the harbor into the open sea. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon once again stood on the grassy beach watching the ship disappear, but this time he did not weep. He stood, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the horizon, but I could see that he would have thrown himself into the sea after the ship if he thought it might do any good. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You wish to see your father again, to hear what the merchants will say of your city,” I said quietly, and he nodded. With another word, he shrank into the form of a gnat. “Do as you did before, my dear Guidon, and see what the merchants have to say. But hurry back, for your mother worries.” In another instant, he was gone across the waves, chasing the disappearing sails into the distance. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I flew back to the palace, where Priya was waiting. With a single look, she knew that her son was gone again, and she turned her eyes back to her sewing. She did not know that I saw her tears fall on her needlework.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again, Guidon returned, full of praise for his father's magnificence. “Oh, swan, I saw him again, sitting proudly upon his throne, and again the whole court was gathered, including my aunts. The merchants could hardly get their words out, they were so eager to speak of the wonders of this island! They told of the wonderful stone walls, the busy market, and the beauty of the land, but most of their talk was of the gold and gems that come from the cage of the squirrel. The tsar himself leaned forward and said, 'Now by my beard, that is a true wonder! I should like to see this great land.' He himself wishes to see our island!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then Guidon's face darkened for a moment. “Of course, my treacherous aunts would not hear of such a thing. They fear the tsar leaving for even a moment, for he might find a new wife abroad and their marriage chances would be gone. One of them spoke up and said, 'That is nothing! A simple squirrel, with gold and gems? We have gold and gems in plenty here! But I have heard of a place on the coast, where every night the water boils and bubbles, and out of the sea come thirty-three knights in armor that shines like fish scales. Then, when morning comes, back they go into the sea, and no-one can find their dwelling. There! That is a greater wonder than any squirrel!' the tsar agreed that this was a great wonder, and made no plans to come visit us.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The next day, Guidon took his morning walk down by the ocean, as was his custom. His hair was tossed by the wind, and I found myself drawn to him. I soared in the air beside him, neither of us speaking, the sound of the ocean waves the only thing to be heard. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, Guidon stood to look out across the ocean to the place where his father's lands were. “I know you have great powers, swan,” he said. “But can you make these soldiers appear from the sea? For nothing less will bring my father here to see my lands.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Which grieves you more, my dear Guidon, that you must wait longer to see your father arrive in the harbor, or the realization that he is so easily swayed by wonders and marvelous stories?” Guidon's face flushed, and I regretted asking such a question. But in a moment, he answered. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">In truth, I do not know. It is such a sight to see him sitting on his golden throne, robed in silk, and looking just as a ruler should. And my mother tells me that he was kind and gentle, and a good man. But would a good man and a strong king be so easily distracted?” he gave a quiet laugh, and ran a hand through his hair. “I only know one thing, swan. I know that even if he were the devil himself, I should still want my father to set foot on my land and be glad that his son was the ruler of such a place. Does any son want anything more or less than that?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then have patience, and keep your courage strong,” I told him, taking to the skies, “your father will come.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I flew for three days, to a desolate spot on the coast. I had been here before, when I lived in the Summer Realm. It looked different from there, a quiet place of rocks and vines and shining fish that leapt from the waters. Perhaps it was still so, when one came upon it in the Realm, but in the world of men the rocks were sharp, the waters fast, and no fish were to be seen. I landed on the rocky beac, and took on my true form again. I opened my mouth and sang a single note, clear and strong, then waited. When the sun began to sink, the water boiled, and up from the depths came thirty-three strong young knights, in mail that shone like fish scales. Behind them came an old man with a beard of pure white, and his eyes were like diamonds. I hailed him. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Greetings, Chernomor. It has been many years.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Indeed, Vasilissa. I was told that you were exiled from the Summer Realm, and it is a strange thing indeed to meet you here in the world of men.” he leaned upon a strong oak staff that was carved with many strange signs and symbols. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I have a great favor to ask of you,” I said, bowing in reverence as was proper when asking a favor from such a person. “There is a young tsarevitch in a distant land, who has been cast out from his land of birth by great treachery. His father, the tsar, does not know that he still lives, and indeed it is not yet safe for him to return to his father's lands. But the tsar is a great lover of wonders, and he has heard of your knights. If you were to come and guard the tsarevitch's land for a single year, it would do much to convince the tsar to visit.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The old wizard of the sea stared at me for a long time, thinking over the proposal. “And why should I grant such a thing to an exile, Vasilissa? A year as men reckon it is little enough time to us, but we do have our own business to be about. What can you offer in return?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">On the island where the tsarevitch lives, there is a great bed of salt. It is pure and of the highest quality. It is good for casting circles and will hold any spell more strongly than any other salt I have found. I offer it to you; you and your men may come and take as much of it as you require for your charms and spells.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The old man considered this, then finally nodded. “It is done then. Fly back to your island then, Vasilissa the swan, and my men will follow you.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I leapt into the air, taking on the form of the swan as I did, and soared high above the beach. In moments, I had caught the wind and began making my way back to the island. Three days later, tired and wearying of traveling, I landed back in the palace on Guidon's land. He and Priya greeted me, and gave me a place by the fire that my wings might dry more quickly, for they were soaked with the salt spray. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Go down to the beach when the sun sinks below the waves,” I told Guidon, “you will see the wonder you wished for.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He left the room, and from the window, Priya and I watched. When the sun set, the water of the harbor boiled, and Chernomor led his knights forth out of the water. Silently, they took the guard positions all along the walls. Their armor shone in the moonlight, and the starlight caught the tips of their spears. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Amazed, Guidon came back into the palace. “Surely, the word of this wonder will bring my father to our shores. I have never seen anything like it!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A week passed before sails were seen on the horizon again, and another trading ship glided into the dock. Again, Guidon dressed in his best and greeted the merchants. Again, he led them back to the palace for a banquet, showing them the squirrel in his cage. Since he had ordered that the meal not be served until the sun set, he and his guests stood on the wall of the palace, looking out over the sea. The water boiled, and the thirty-three knights came up from the sea to take their places. The merchants shook with fear at the sight of the fierce warriors, and Guidon beckoned them into the palace with a laugh. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again, the merchants made ready to depart in the morning, their conversation buzzing with talk of the strange things they had seen in Duke Guidon's land. As the ship slipped out of the dock, I found Guidon standing almost in the water, looking after the ship. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I wish to go with them, swan,” he said. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And if I refuse? You know what will happen, for it can only be one of two things. Either your father will agree to come visit you, in which case you will have your heart's desire soon. Or else he will be distracted by the tale of some other wonder, and not come yet again. No wonder will make him come to your land until he truly desires to do so.” But my words fell flat, for I could see that he had no desire to listen. And my heart ached, for I did not want him to leave. The island seemed less pleasant when he was away, and I did not know why. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Please, dear swan, I must know. I must find out what it is that my father most desires to see, for I cannot live unless he comes to my lands to see me.” his voice was strained, and his eyes never left the shrinking sails in the distance. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Without a further plea, I spoke the word that would change him, and a humming wasp hung in the air for a moment, then Guidon flew in a rush out to the ship. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I returned to the palace, to the room where Priya sat darning a sock. We sat in silence until sunset, then she sighed and set her work aside. Kneeling beside me on the stone floor, she raised my head to look into my eyes. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You are no swan,” she said, “and I do not know what you are, but I can see in your eyes that you suffer as I do while he is gone. Whatever you are in truth, you care for my son, for you have the power to keep him here and you do not, though you miss him as deeply as I do.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A single tear slipped from my eye, surprising even myself as it splashed on the floor. A moment later, Priya wrapped her arms around my neck and wept.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">That week, the island felt empty, although it was as busy as ever. I felt as though a part of myself was gone. It was a strange feeling, one I had never encountered before. Grief I knew, but this was not grief, or at least not entirely so. Nor was it anger, hunger, loss, or any other thing I knew of the world of men. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">But when I heard the buzzing of a wasp's wings in the air, my heart leaped and I quickly spoke the word that would restore Guidon to his true shape. He looked tired, I noted, and the hope that had lived so long in his eyes was beginning to dim. I begged him to tell me the story of his time in the tsar's land, but he shook his head. “No, dear swan. Let me go up to my mother's room, and I will tell the story there.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Priya saw the look in her son's eyes as soon as he entered the room, and quickly set her darning aside. She poured him a cup of mulled wine, and bid him drink it to warm up and loosen his tongue. After he had sipped the drink, he began to talk.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I easily hid myself on board the ship, and found my way into my father's court, as I have done before. Again, he sat grandly on his throne, with the court gathered around. And the merchants told him of the wonders of this land, and particularly of the fine guard of thirty-three shining knights from the depths of the sea. He started forward with such eagerness that I thought for sure he would set sail for our island with all speed. But again, my aunt spoke up. With her lying tongue, she laughed at the knights of the sea, and told my father a story of a fair maiden that is said to live in these lands. She said that she is tall and beautiful, with hair like gold and a voice that could charm the very birds of the air into silence. In truth, she half made me fall in love with this woman, but my heart broke to see my father once again lost to such a story. For he agreed that such a beautiful woman would be a wonder worth seeing, and sank back onto his throne.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon, what was the story that your aunt told? Who is this woman?” I questioned him, though I felt I already knew the answer, and dreaded it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I do not know. She said that she was a woman of another world, that she wandered through the forests fighting off evil sorcerers, and yet was as beautiful as the sun rising in the morning. Her eyes are said to be the color of the sea, and her hair as gold as wheat in summer.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The room was silent for a moment, though only I seemed to sense the tension. Priya squeezed her son's hand and smiled at him. “What, my son? You are not going to ask for this wonder, too?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He looked into the fire, and the flames were reflected in his eyes. “I do not think one asks for a woman the way one asks for a squirrel or even an army. For all I know, these are mere illusions that our friend the swan has conjured up to help bring my father to this land. But to ask for a woman is to ask another being to give their heart to you, to ask for the power to hurt more deeply than a knife. No, I will not ask for such a thing. If he comes, he comes. If he will not come, then we will live and die here. And mother, you have been both mother and father to me for these twenty years, I could not ask for more from the tsar himself.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Priya embraced her son, and I could see in her eyes that she would have given him anything he wanted, if she could. When I looked at myself in the still waters of a puddle later that night, I saw the same look in my own eyes.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Several weeks passed, and while I was very glad to have Guidon back on the island for good, he was not himself. His morning walks lasted for hours, and he spent great amounts of time looking out into the ocean's waves. Nothing I said could draw him into anything more than polite conversation, and eventually there was only silence between us. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, I met him on a grassy hill one morning, overlooking the great salt bed on the far side of the island from the city. He sat there, watching the workers harvest the salt and prepare it for sale. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon,” I began, hesitating over my words for a moment. “you have been so quiet these last few weeks. Please tell me what it is. Are you still waiting for the sails of your father's ship to appear over the waves?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He shook his head, and quietly braided a few strands of long grass together, weaving a small ring. “No. Ah, swan, I have left your many kindnesses unrequited, and have not even been able to give you a pleasant word. Please forgive me, my thoughts have been elsewhere.” He smiled, but it was not his usual smile, with the sun and sky in it. “In truth, I have not been able to stop thinking of the story my aunt told, of the beautiful maiden of the woods. I...I would like to see such a woman.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Only to see?” I asked carefully, “Only to see and not to own? Not to display as yet another wonder of your land?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He shook his head. “No, I hope I should be a better man that all that. But it is often very lonely here. I love my mother, and she cares for me so deeply, but when a boy becomes a man, he begins to desire a woman. Even more than a land to rule, he wishes for a home to return to, a smile to greet him and a kiss at the end of the day. There are many beautiful girls in the town, it's true, but none of them are for me. They all see me as the rich duke Guidon, the one who can give them lovely gowns and rich jewels. I'll not find a wife among them, I think.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">A wife!” I said with some surprise. “this is the first you have spoken of any such thing.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I can no longer be a boy wishing idly for his father's approval,” he replied, finishing the grass ring, and holding it up to examine it in the sunlight. “The time has come for me to be my own man, to take a wife, and to rule this land as best I can, whether my father comes or no.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">At that moment, as he spoke those words, I thought he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. The sun turned his hair a dark bronze, and the ring he had woven was delicate and well-made. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And if this maiden of the forest was found, and she stood before you, what would you do?” I tried to keep my voice steady, for fear of giving away my thoughts. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I should fall to one knee, praise her beauty as highly as I knew how, and ask her to be my wife, if she could ever love such a poor kind of man as I.” He spoke these words without looking at me. But as he finished, he turned, and stared in astonishment. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">For I no longer sat on the grass behind him as a great white swan, but had regained my true form. I stood as a woman of the Summer Realm, with hair like wheat with the sun on it, and eyes like the sea. I waited with bated breath, wondering if his words had been the idle romances of a boy, or the vow of a man of worth. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A moment later, he sank onto one knee and offering up the grass ring in his hand, said, “I had thought to praise your beauty as best as I knew how. Now that I see you, I do not know how to praise you. I offer myself with this ring.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The bells of the chapel in the town rang out the marriage peals that very night.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Love was a very great surprise to me. I had not noticed the moment when it first found a home in my heart. But whenever it had happened, I knew that I loved Guidon. It was, perhaps, the making of a life together that was so strange to me. Even when I lived as a human being, in the village so many years ago, I had been a different kind of woman, and kept to my own schedule and desires. Now I found myself living with a man whose desires and interests did not always match my own, and though all of my habits were bent toward working my own will, my heart wanted to please him very much. It was not a simple process, and we broke each other's hearts many times even during the first month of marriage. But in time we began to learn more of each other, and though the pain and quarrels were perhaps inevitable, we learned to how rebuild afterwards. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A month after our marriage, a trading ship again appeared in the harbor, sails full with the wind. The merchants were here for salt again, and Guidon and I went down to the docks to greet them. As we approached the docks, I saw the merchants stop their work and stare. I was not accustomed to such attention, but I held my head high and acted like the noble lady that they assumed I must be. Guidon had said nothing, but I knew that he still hoped that word of the woman he had married would reach his father and inspire him to visit. In truth, it was my hope, too; after all, who does not wish that the one will love will find the thing they have desired for a lifetime?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The merchants were shown the market, the great walls of the city, and the pile of gold and gems that came from the cage of the squirrel. When the sun set, Chernomor's men came up from the sea, and I almost laughed at the fear that came over the merchants when the waters began to boil. When Guidon invited them into the banquet hall for the meal, they hurried in, looking over their shoulders as if to see if the strange soldiers were following them. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The meal was wonderful, and the merchants soon forgot their fears. The musicians played their instruments with great skill, and the sound of good cheer filled the hall. Then, as a song was in its final verse, Guidon caught my eye, and I nodded. He stood and raised his hand for attention. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">My friends!” he shouted, voice warmed by several cups of good wine. “My friends, we have seen much that this wonderful land has to offer tonight, but in truth, you have not yet heard its greatest wonder! I beg you now, listen to the most beautiful creature you have ever heard...my wife!” There was a round of raucous cheers as I stood and cleared my throat. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">With the first note, all other sounds ceased, and by the time the first verse of my song had ended, everyone in the hall had given me their full attention. I wove no spells into this song, for true beauty is a greater force than any simple glamor. It may be counted to me as vanity, but the children of the Summer Realm can sing songs that no human voice could master.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the last notes of the song faded back into silence, I gave a small smile and took my seat again. I saw tears running down the cheeks of many of the merchants, and one had a faraway look in his eyes as if his thoughts were on a long-lost love. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Shortly after that, I excused myself and retired to the room I shared with Guidon. I undressed and got into the bed; I rarely slept, but it often felt nice to pass the night in silence in the arms of my husband. Within the hour, I heard Guidon come in and join me in the bed. It still sent a thrill down my spine to feel the strength of his arms as they wrapped around my waist. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He whispered in my ear, “Your song was so beautiful I thought my heart would break for the joy of it.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I sung of you, you know,” I replied quietly. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Even if you had not, it would have been the most beautiful thing I ever heard.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When morning came, Guidon and I went out to the docks to bid farewell to the merchants. The wind was strong and steady, and it was a fine morning for sailing. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He gave the head merchant several parting gifts, and said, “Please, convey my warmest regards to Tsar Saltan, and tell him that it would bring me great joy to have him visit me and my beautiful wife here in our city.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The merchant accepted the gifts graciously and boarded the ship. In a moment, the gangplank was drawn up and the ship began to sail away into the open sea. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">We walked up the hill to watch the ship sail away, and the wind blew my hair about wildly. Guidon buried his nose in the wild tresses, and I asked, “Do you not wish to go aboard the ship, to see what your father will say of the latest wonder in your court? It would be the work of a moment.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He laughed then, an open laugh that soared away on the wind. “Leave now? When I could stay here with you? Never. After all, whether he comes or not, I have found my joy and my peace here. Let him do as he pleases.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In truth, even if I had been told at that moment that my way back into the Summer Realms had been unbarred, I do not think I could have been happier.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Though it pleased me greatly that he was so willing to stay with me, it was only a week before the red and gold sails of the tsar's ship appeared over the horizon. When the shout went up from the watchtower, Guidon ran downstairs and out of the door before I could catch up with him. He stood on the hill overlooking the bay, wind ruffling his robes and tossing his hair. I joined him there, and we stood looking out to the horizon where the boat sailed nearer and nearer. As it pulled into the harbor, Guidon took my hand, and we stepped forward to meet the tsar. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon's hand was trembling with excitement and I gripped it tightly, praying that he would say the right things, and that the tsar would know him for his son. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The tsar stepped out of the boat, and stood blinking in the bright sunlight. He was dressed in a coat of crimson with gold buttons and trimmed with dark fur. His hair was the same shade as Guidon's, and the sun caught the red hints in it. His face was lined with care, but there was an eager look in his eye, and a healthy ruddiness to his cheeks after the seabound journey. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon stepped forward and bowed low. “My good tsar, I am glad beyond words that you have chosen to visit my lands. We have heard so much of your greatness that I have greatly desired to welcome you to my home.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The tsar replied, “I have heard many stories of this strange island, Duke Guidon. It often came into my mind to visit you here, but other things always arose to prevent me. But I am here at last. Let me see the things I have been told of so often!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon smiled and agreed. “first, of course, is my beautiful bride. She will sing for you later, but I promise you that no-one who listens to her voice is unmoved.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The tsar looked at me in surprise. “I do indeed believe that this is the maid of the forest that I was told of. Her beauty is like nothing I have seen.” He bent and kissed my hand. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As we made our way up to the palace, Guidon showed his father every facet of his city; the tsar pronounced his satisfaction with the market, the guild halls, and the great walls of the city. With every word, I could feel Guidon's spirits lift, until I wondered that he kept his feet on the ground at all. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The tsar watched the squirrel in the golden cage for a long time, a look of sheer delight on his face. He laughed with joy for every gem that fell from a golden shell, and thanked Guidon profusely when my husband gave him a handful of the shells and gems to keep. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As sunset fell, the three of us watched from the parapet as the water of the harbor boiled and the shining knights rose from the depths to take their places along the watchtowers. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">What wonders could surpass these,” the tsar said as Guidon led the way into the banquet hall. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Apart from the voice of my beautiful wife, only one,” replied Guidon, his voice catching slightly. He paused at the door to whisper a word of instruction to a servant who quickly departed for Priya's rooms. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again the banquet hall was filled with the music of the best musicians, and the tables were loaded with the finest food of the island. The tsar's eyes glowed with delight, and his entourage were soon at home and making merry with the people of the village. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again, Guidon bid me stand and sing, and I sung a song for the tsar. This was not the song I had sung for Guidon when the merchants came, but a new song. I brought forth words of love and loss, and years of great loneliness relieved at last. When I finished, there were tears on the tsar's face, and I think that if fewer people had been present, he would have wept openly. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Taking control of himself, he turned to Guidon. “My good duke, you did not lie when you told me of the incredible skill of your wife. I believe that she could sing the whole world into a trance if she so desired it. But you have promised me one final wonder.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Guidon nodded, and nodded to a servant who stood by the door. “My dear tsar, you have heard my wife sing of love and loss, and I can see that it has touched your heart as it has mine. It makes me think of my own dear mother, who has known much of both. She has loved greatly, and because of treachery, has lost that love for many years.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The tsar nodded politely, but I could see the confusion on his face. At that moment, the door from the upper floor opened, and Priya stood on the steps. She had let her hair down long, and it hung in a dark curtain to her ankles. She wore a simple silver circlet on her hair, and her face was pale. She wore a gown of deepest blue velvet, and I thought for a moment that she might collapse with the strain of the moment. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Silence descended upon the room as the tsar saw her. For an instant, no one moved. Then, slowly, the tsar stood, and there was a great light in his eyes. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It...cannot be,” he stammered. “Priya? My Priya? But you were lost...they told me...”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He never completed that sentence, for in a moment she had run to meet him and he wrapped her in an embrace so tight I wondered that either could breathe at all. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When they finally pulled apart, the tsar was gripping Priya's hand, and tears were streaming down both of their faces. Lifting a glass of wine, the tsar shouted, “Let it be known to all here present, and soon to all in my land, that this lady is the Tsarina Priya, my own dear wife and mother of my son. Betrayed by her treacherous sisters, she has lived here faithfully and raised my son to be a good man.” He paused for a moment, then turned to Guidon as if seeing him for the first time. “they...they sent a message after your birth. They said the child was neither boy nor girl, but instead a monster. I...I told them to wait until I could return to see for myself and decide what was to be done. When I came back, I was told that your mother had run away and taken you with her into the mountains. I cursed her name, and, oh God forgive me, I was glad that I had never laid eyes upon you. I am almost glad for their lies; I do not know if I could have lived these twenty years knowing that I had lost such a woman and such a son.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There were tears in my husband's eyes, and I could feel him trembling next to me, but he kept control and spoke calmly. “I have desired, all of my life, to hear you say those words. Now, I can die a happy man, for I have the love of a good woman and the approval of my father.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">For a moment the two men stood looking at each other, and I marvelled at how similar they were. Then Guidon was in his father's arms, and the two men wept openly. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The celebration that followed will be spoken of for many years. We laughed, talked, danced, and sang into the early hours of the morning. The tsar stayed in the palace for a full week, and he was never seen without Priya, whose face glowed like the sun itself. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">At the end of the week, the tsar expressed his desire to return to his lands with his wife and declare her virtue to all those who had wronged her. He begged Guidon to return with him, but he refused. “I am happy in my own land, with my wife and our city. We will stay here, but I promise to come and visit you and my mother within the year. I have greatly desired to see the lands that my father rules.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">We stood on the dock until the ship's sails were out of sight. I whispered to Guidon, “I am grateful for your decision to stay here. But in truth, these walls will not last us another year, and Chernomor's guard will soon complete the year I have asked them to guard our walls. It might be wise to go with your father.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He shook his head, turning back to look at the walls of the city gleaming in the sunlight. “We can build the walls ourselves, and our own guard is enough. I am my father's son fully now, but I am also my own man, and I must have my own land. It is only three days' sail to my father's lands, and we can go there often.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">And it was all as he said. We did rebuild the walls as the fading magic left them to crumble. The people of the town joined in with a good heart, and soon the walls were as grand as ever. Chernomor's guard disappeared back into the sea, though there remained tales of shining knights that appeared to gather salt from the beds on the far side of the island. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">And that year brought us another great joy: the birth of a daughter, Zarya. We named her for the sunrise, for she was like the light of morning breaking across the land. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The years that followed I will not speak of, for they belonged to my Guidon and me, and I am jealous of them. We took great joy in each other and our land, and in our daughter, who grew into the greatest beauty that the land had ever seen. She took after my people in beauty and long life, but she had Guidon's auburn hair and his laugh, for which I gave thanks. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When the time came for Guidon to die, we all went away to the palace that had been his father's. Guidon lay in his bed, warmed by the fire, and we talked for many days of all that had happened to us over the years. I had made my appearance age with his, so that no strange stories would spread to tell my enemies of my fate, but when we were alone, I became again the young Vasilissa, the maiden with wheat-gold hair and eyes like the sea. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, Guidon breathed his life while I held his right hand and Zarya his left, and he went into death with a smile on his face and a laugh on his lips. May the God of men grant all mortals such a life and such a passage. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When my husband was buried with all good rites, I took Zarya and put her in the care of a wise old woman of the tsardom. She knew my story, as had Guidon by the end, and knew that I must go reclaim my place in the Summer Realm before I could come back and take her with me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I set out on the road to the great Gate, and it was the depth of winter. I scarcely noticed, for my heart was still grieving for my husband. Once my heart had found its home in the Summer Realm, but now it called out only for the home it had found in Guidon, and I felt lost. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As I walked, I found a path I recognized, and with great hope, hurried along it. Soon enough, I came out into the little clearing with the house of the raven in the center.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As I walked up the path, Viktor opened the door. Without a word, he beckoned me inside. I had not been here since the day with Ivan and Tatiana, and was surprised to find so many of her things still in the cottage. She must have died several centuries earlier, by men's time, yet I almost expected her to walk in at any moment. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do you ever stop missing her,” I asked as Viktor handed me a cup of hot mulled wine. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He sat in his large wooden chair on the other side of the fireplace, and stared thoughtfully into the flames. “No. No, I have never stopped missing her, and I do not think I ever will.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And yet,” I mused, sipping the wine, “you must have seen many thousands of women over the passing years. Not one of them has caught your eye?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He gave a faint smile. “None of them is her. If you stay in this world for another thousand years, will you ever find a man like the one you have loved?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">No,” I responded instantly, then looked up with astonishment, for I had not yet told him of Guidon. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You did not need to say a word, for the history of that love is written on your face for anyone to see, if he knows how to look.” Viktor leaned back into the chair. “You will never find another like him, and I will never find another like Tatiana. That is the way of things, and it is not to be helped. Would you change it if you could, make a hundred men like your love?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I shook my head. “Never.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And you made no effort to pull him back from death.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I shook my head, for the thought of it was horrible to me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">And now at last you have your answer, why I did not call Tatiana back after she died. I loved her far too much to do so.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I took another sip of wine and felt it warm my throat. “You know many things of life and death, and the passage between them. It is said that when men die, they go to eternal reward or eternal punishment. Is it true?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He thought for a moment, then answered, “Yes, in a fashion. I can only see so far into death, and further than that is a mystery to me as much as to you.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then perhaps you can answer the question that has weighed heavily on my heart these past months. My Guidon was a good man, and he died a good death. If there is a reward for such things, then he surely earned it and is in paradise now. But I do not know what happens to my kind beyond death. Do we even die as men do, or do we simply return to the earth and disappear?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You mean,” he said, “will you ever see your beloved again, or is he lost to you forever?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I drained my cup of wine to the dregs and nodded. I had not voiced the question so bluntly for fear of the stab of pain that lanced through my heart at the thought that Guidon and I could be separated forever. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">In truth, I do not know. So few of your kind ever choose to die that I have never come across any on the paths of the dead. Some say that everything beyond death is a dream, and that no meetings are possible. Some, in their turn, say that time itself will end one day, and death will give up all that it has taken, and the world will never know parting or sorrow again. For myself, I do not know. But this one thing I am sure of.” He leaned forward, the firelight gleaming on his black hair. “All that exists, you and me and this whole world, belongs to that which created it. Whether it is one god or many, or nature itself, I do not know, but to fling that life back in the face of creation is a terrible thing. My Tatiana would not want me to do such a thing for her sake, and so I go on, and hope that someday I may see her again in the paths beyond death's door.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">We were both silent for a long time, and I stared into the heart of the flame. The embers glowed and flickered, creating strange shapes of heat and light. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Viktor and I talked long into the night, and when morning dawned, I went on my way. For many years I wandered the forests again, thinking of my lost love and waiting for the summons to go to my home. Zarya was in good hands, and I knew that she could not join in my wanderings, as much as it pained me to leave her. Finally, after a great deal of time had passed, I knew that my time had come, and I found myself on the path to the great Gate.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I still did not know whether I would ever see my love again, but something in me called me home, and it was to the great Gate that I made my way. I carried in my pack one single treasure: a tiara that Tsar Saltan had given me, when Guidon and I first made our appearance in his lands. It was crafted of pure silver, and had so many diamonds on it that it glittered like the stars. He said that it had once belonged to his mother, and had been handed down in his family for centuries. I do not know where it came from, but the work was so fine it could not have been made by human hands. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Being unsure of my welcome into my homeland, I planned to stop by the old tree that held my treasures. As I came closer to the land around the great Gate, I could see that something was wrong. There were trees lying flat on the ground, more and more of them as I got closer, until not a single tree stood for miles around. All were laid out in a row, as if a giant hand had brushed by and uprooted them. Many were marked with burns and scorches, and the air smelled strange. A sense of foreboding overtook me as I got closer. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;" align="LEFT"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The old tree itself had been knocked over, and it was like a blow to the heart to see the fine trunk turned to charcoal and broken on the ground. My spells had preserved the hollow beneath it, however, and I checked to make sure that time and whatever strange thing that happened here had not ravaged the golden apple or silver bridle that I had stored so many years ago, but they were both as bright and new as the day I first held them. I wrapped the tiara in rags and placed it with the other gifts, and set everything back as it had been. And now forward to the Gate, though my heart dreaded what I might find in the center of such destruction.</span></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-65013637359367271252010-11-27T12:02:00.000-08:002010-11-27T12:05:21.962-08:00Vasilissa and the Baba Yaga<p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I left the village that day. There was little to do. The gold itself would soon revert to its original elements, my charm unweaving itself. Even my poor cottage would soon be little more than a mound of earth, covered by flowers. I had tried to avoid men, and been unable to do so. I had tried to rule them, and a loyal servant had died trying to keep me from death. I had tried to become like men, and had my heart broken as men's do. I did not know what else I might do, but my heart finally knew that I would never be able to rest until I came again to my home, the Summer Realm, and no-one could tell when that might be. Until then, I resolved with greater fervor to keep to the woods and steppes, and away from the towns. Already I regretted my hasty curse upon Basilokov, but it was done and there was no helping it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The woods were cold, but the winter air was clean and the ground was pure with newfallen snow. I knew that the pristine appearance would not last, but it was like a tonic after the years in the village. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I journeyed three days into the forest, camping as I felt the need of rest and eating from the sack of provisions I had carried from the village. At first it felt strange, to be in the snow without freezing; I had lived with the people in the village, hiding my true nature and powers, that I had almost forgotten how to use them. But the world itself is a fine teacher, and by the end of the three days, I no longer felt the cold so keenly nor hunger so sharply. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I still grieved the loss of Katya; indeed, that grief was the only part of my time in the human world that was still as fresh and sharp as it had been in the village. But even that would fade in time, I knew, though I would always miss her. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The woods were quiet; I did not see so much as a squirrel no matter how deep into the forest I went. I should have seen it as a warning, but my senses were dulled to danger. It had been fifty years since I had hidden myself in the human world, and I thought that surely my trail had gone cold under so many years. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">That night, I camped on the ground, clearing it of snow and spreading out a pack of furs I had brought with me. I did not even think to cast my salt circle, but instead lay down and closed my eyes. I did not sleep, but found myself drifting in thought through my memories, back to the Summer Realm. I remembered the warm touch of the night air on my skin, the gentle tension of the flower vines that were my hammock, and the sweetness of the water when I drank from any of the hundreds of streams that flowed through the land. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">For a moment, I even thought I could feel the old warmth on my skin, chasing away the chill that not even the warmest summer day in the human world had been able to dispell. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">A foul order invaded my reverie, and before I could move, I felt the iron grip of two bony hands clutching my arms. With a start, I opened my eyes to see the wrinkled face of the Baba Yaga peering at me through the darkness.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">No more running for you, feygirl,” she rasped, her toothless gums grinding only a few inches from my face. “Thought you could use a little magic, cast a little charm, and the Yaga wouldn't find out? Think me a harmless old crone?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I felt the air being crushed out of my lungs, and before I knew it, she had dragged me into her mortar, and we were flying through the air. My ears were filled with the sound of rushing wind, the scraping of the mortar, and the swish of the Baba Yaga's broom. I do not know how long we flew, nor was I familiar with the forest that we finally landed in. The Baba Yaga quickly threw me down into the snow, into the center of a dark circle. She had not made her circle with salt, which was too pure for the likes of her magic; this circle was made with soot, ashes, and slivers of cold iron. I made to run, but she shouted a single word and the circle was made alive with her dark magic, and I was trapped. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">How can I describe to anyone what it felt like? The air inside the circle went bitterly cold, and it seemed thick and heavy, more like ice water than air. And through it all, something like lightning, though it brought more darkness than light. I could not move outside of the circle, and barely within it. Around the edges, the Yaga prowled like a scrawny cat, her hungry yellow eyes trained on me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I have already been captured once by Koschei,” I called to her, forcing my words through the cold heavy air, “and I will face death again rather than submit to your magic. I know what it is you intend to do with me.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The grandmother of witches laughed, a truly horrible sound. “Koschei, that fool! Both of you, thinking you can learn your magic from books, fools! You cannot taste it in the air, as I can. You cannot feel it in your veins, as I do. You cannot hear it singing in the ground, as I have. Koschei, for all of his fire and fury, could not see the seal that is set upon you. And I see now that even you did not know! Why, your forehead bears the mark that can only be set by the Lawkeepers: you may not be killed by anyone until such time as they remove that mark. I might blast you with every arc of lightning in the sky, but you would live. Koschei could no more have spilled your blood upon that Gate than mine.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I raised a hand to my forehead in surprise. I had never seen nor felt any sign of a mark there. The Baba Yaga was not known for telling great truths, but she cackled when she saw me. “Doubt all you like, feygirl. Even if my words are not true, I'll not be killing you today. However, there is a matter to be settled.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She put her fingers to her mouth and gave a long whistle that sounded like the shriek of some dying thing. A few moments later, Koschei rode into the clearing. His back was more stooped than I remembered, and there were more lines in his face, but his eyes burned as brightly as ever. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Now give me the egg,” the witch demanded of him, holding out a crooked hand, “for you've seen that I am able to deliver her.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I asked for her death,” Koschei croaked, his voice cracked and hoarse. “She still lives.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I told you, you fool,” the Yaga said, “it will be begun tonight, the only way that it can be done. But it is the same to me whether she lives or dies, if you will not give me that egg, she lives.” The witch made as if to return to her mortar, but Koschei groaned, and pulled a small egg from the inner pocket of his coat.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was a strange sight, to see the fiery sorcerer grieve so over giving the witch an egg, but I remembered the stories of how Koschei had gained his immortality, and I knew what the egg must contain. How I wished I could break free and smash it to bits!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When she had the egg stowed away, the Baba Yaga turned her attention back to me. Raising her arms, she began muttering words that I could not understand. The air crackled with the dark energy.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I could feel my heart constricting inside me, and my lungs felt as though they had turned to stone. The world seemed to be leaping up around me, but no, I was shrinking, shrinking, down and down until I could barely see over the rim of my own footprint in the snow. My eyes were fixed upon, and I could draw no breath. My whole body was rigid and I thought the Baba Yaga had lied about her inability to kill me, for it felt like death. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But then the witch lowered her arms, a gloating look spreading over her face. “There is your clever prey, sorcerer, take her if you please.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Koschei bent over me, and scooped me up in his cold hands. I would have shuddered at the touch if I could. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I do not understand,” he said, turning me over as if I weighed nothing, “she is a simple wooden doll. This is not death!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Fool-headed goat,” the old woman replied. “I have already told you, she bears a mark! Neither you nor I can kill her. But she can kill herself, and natural things may take their course. And if a simple wooden doll be left in a tree top, open to wind, rain, and all the forces of the earth, how long before it turns to splinters and rots away into nothing?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">For the first time, a smile played about Koschei's lips. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">In truth, old witch, you are not as daft as you appear sometimes. One spring, perhaps two. No more can such a fragile little thing last.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">With a leap, he was among the lower branches of a nearby tree, and he climbed quickly, up to the top where the branches swayed with every breath. He lodged me in the crook of two branches, and tied me there with a bit of string. “And to think I once thought to bind you with chains of iron,” he chuckled, “when only a bit of string would have done. Where is your magic now, I wonder?” And then he was gone.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I could hear both of them below me now, though their voices sounded distant. “That has done it for the feygirl. None shall ever dare defy me again! Farewell then, Yaga, until the time is right to bring down the Gate and claim the Realm.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But the witch just laughed. “Idiot! Did you think I was done with you? You are my vassal now, for I hold your soul against my heart, and I can crush it into nothingness at a whim. It is no good getting angry: see, I have it in my hand, and it will crack at any moment! Better, that is better. Now go your way, for I have no need of you now, but know that when the Realm is claimed, you will not be the one sitting on its throne.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Then I heard a sound like a great wind, and I knew that the Baba Yaga had departed. When Koschei left, I do not know. My eyes were open to the sun blazing high overhead, and I felt the wind passing by. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I hung in the tree for nine days, I think, though time seemed to pass strangely. The sun rose and set, but I could not close my eyes to rest. The treetop rocked, but I could not sleep. And ever under the current of my thoughts was the single memory: they knew how to take the Gate. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">On the ninth day, I saw a black spot in the sky. It soared here and there, and finally it came near enough for me to see that it was a great raven. I longed to call out to it, to charm it close enough to take a message for me, but my mouth was the mouth of a doll, and it would not move. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But slowly the raven flew closer towards me, finally landing in the tree that I was bound to. It regarded me for some time with its hard bright eyes. Then, with a few swift swipes of its beak, the strings holding me were cut. I toppled from my perch, and fell down into the branches, but in a moment the raven had caught me in its talons, and we were aloft. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I watched to forest passing below, each towering pine looking much like the last, and all of the trees spread out like a carpet. Ahead, I saw a thin line of brown snaking through the trees and the snow: a road, and a large one, by the looks of it. And on that road, men with horses, laden with packs and parcels. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I scarcely had time to notice them before the raven opened his claws, and I fell through the air. It was a long way to the ground, and I tumbled head over heels many times. Then, with a soft crunch, I plunged into the snow on the side of the road, buried.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I was only in the snow for a moment before I felt a gloved hand pulling me free. Large fingers brushed the white stuff from my body, and I heard an exclamation of surprise. “A doll! What would a bird be doing with such a thing this far from a village?” Then I was tucked into a pocket of the man's coat, and all was quiet. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When I was drawn out again, it was in the warm firelit room of a house. I could see fine rugs on the floor, and a woman in a chair by the fire, rocking gently. She was with child, and her face glowed in the ruddy light. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">See? It's a fine little doll, it must have belonged to a rich man's daughter in some city. I have no idea where the bird found it, or why it carried it so far, but I thought to bring it home to you.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The women smiled, running a finger along my wooden robes. “It is beautiful. And our little girl will love her.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">So sure you are that it is a girl,” laughed the man. “And why not a fine boy for me, to carry on my name?” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">All in good time,” the woman responded, hand on her belly, “all in good time.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The next morning, the merchant left for his day's work, and his wife took time to clean me, wiping away the mud that had gathered in the cracks of my wooden form. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">There,” she said quietly, “much better. Perfect for my little girl when she arrives.” She set me on the mantle above the fire, and stared at me for a long time, until I began to wonder if she guessed the truth about the little wooden doll her husband had brought home. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I am still trying to think of a name, doll,” she finally continued. “I know that my child will be a girl, in the way that women often know, but I do not have a name for her. I have tried my mother's name, and it simply isn't right, and I have no other women in my family to name her after.” With those words, she fell silent, and spent the rest of the morning rocking quietly and looking out the window at the snow outside. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The days passed slowly but pleasantly, given the circumstances. I was still trapped in this form, but there was no immediate danger; things could have been far worse, and so I waited and watched. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The time grew very near for the merchant's wife to deliver her child, and she seemed to grow more attached to me as the day drew closer. She talked to me for hours when the house was empty, telling me of her hopes for her child, and her memories of her own childhood. She was a simple soul, but good as gold at heart, and in time I grew to enjoy her stories, though I had no way of showing it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">One day, when she was in pain from the child inside, she lay in bed, nibbling a bit of bread for her midday meal. She told me of the grand parties she had given her dolls as a child. “You see, doll, my parents would always give me little scraps from the table to feed my dolls, though of course they knew that I are it all myself in the end. But sometimes I almost thought the dolls would eat it, their eyes looked so real. I would hold up a bit of bread to their lips, like this.” she broke off a crumb and held it to my wooden lips. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And suddenly, the bread was gone, and I felt my powers of movement returning. I was still a tiny wooden doll, but I could move. I looked up at the merchant's wife, who stared at me in shock. I feared that a scare could harm the child she carried, so I spoke quickly. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do not be afraid! I have been cursed by an enemy of mine to be in this form, but I mean only good for you and your daughter.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">But...a simple doll...”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is difficult to explain, but you must trust me. I will do anything I can to help you, your husband, or your daughter, in gratitude for saving me from the snow. But you must tell no-one of this.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">she continued to stare at me for a long time, wrestling with the reality of what was happening. Finally, she made the sign against evil, and said, “I don't believe you are here to harm us, or you would have done so. It is a strange story, however, like something that my nurse might have told me when I was very young.” She winced as the baby moved within her. “And still I have not a name for the child. I have almost decided to name her for a friend of my grandmother's; she never had children of her own to carry on her name, and my grandmother thought very highly of her.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Hoping to comfort and calm the poor woman, I replied, “that is a fine thing. What was her name?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was a name from an old story. My grandmother said she was called Vasilissa.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I fell silent in wonder as she spoke. Could it be? I looked closely at her face, and saw something familiar in the lines of it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Tell me about your grandmother. It will take your mind off the pain.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She shifted position, and her fine straight hair was spread across her pillow. “She was tall and she moved like a willow. Her hair was once the color of wheat, but it had turned white by the time I knew her, and her eyes were always laughing. Her name was Katya, and she died when I was very little. I have not been back to that village to put flowers on her grave since I met my Sergei. He has been very good to me, though his work often takes him away from home. He has promised that after the baby is born, we will all three go back to the village to put flowers on her grave, and to see my mother.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was very strange, I thought, that the raven should drop me at the feet of the man who married one of Katya's granddaughters. What strange pattern was this that had me in its grip? There was no knowing, but it seemed to be a pattern that worked outside of the Baba Yaga's will, and so I was somewhat glad for it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I could feel my limbs stiffening again, and quickly whispered, “I must go now, but when you or your daughter have need, give me a bit of food and I will help you.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In a few moments, I had lost the freedom of movement, and was once again a doll. But this time, I did not merely watch; I also waited. For now I knew that the Baba Yaga could not fully impose her will on me: there was some power yet that watched both of us, and there was more to this game than met the eye.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In three days' time, the merchant's wife gave birth to a daughter. It was a messy affair, as all births must be, but at the end of the pain was great rejoicing, for both the girl and the mother were healthy. The daughter was unusually beautiful, with big grey eyes that seemed to take in everything. Her skin was pale and rosy, and her hair was a beautiful brown, like her mother's, gleaming in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">They named the girl Vasilissa, and it was strange to hear my name spoken so often to refer to another. I had lost so much, must I lose my name too? </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The merchant and his wife were very happy in those days, and I sat silently upon the mantle above the fireplace, watching and waiting. The merchant's wife, whose name was Sofya, sang to Little Vasilissa, brushing her fine hair and teaching her the names of everything in the house. Her husband, Yuri, began to prosper in his business, and slowly the house filled with fine things from far away. Vasilissa wore dresses that had been made in the large city at the heart of the land, stitched with pearls from the coast. They were very happy, and so the years passed. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sofya rarely brought me to life, though she tended to do so when Yuri was away on a long trip. Now, more often, she took me down from the shelf that Vasilissa might have something to play with. She was a gentle child, and Sofya ensured that my wooden body was not damaged. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">There came a day, when Vasilissa was eight years of age, and she sat on the floor playing happily with a book of colorful pictures that her father had brought home from his latest trip. Sofya sat in her rocking chair, mending a shirt, and smiling to hear Vasilissa reading so well. But as the day went on, Sofya grew pale, and her rocking slowed. Once or twice she coughed, hiding the sound with her hand. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">By the time Yuri came home that night, Sofya had taken to her bed, and lay shivering under the blankets. When morning came, she was no better, and Yuri sent for a doctor. Vasilissa sat by her mother all day, carefully stroking her hand and whispering to her. The doctor came, and listened to the sound of Sofya's cough. He frowned, and put an ear to her back, asking her to breathe deeply. Whatever he heard made him grow very solemn, and he pulled Yuri outside to talk to him. Yuri returned to the house alone, almost as pale as Sofya. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">As the days went by, Sofya grew paler and weaker, until finally she could no longer raise her head. Yuri was by her side at every moment, and my little namesake stopped her playing to join in. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sofya smiled wanly at her daughter, and took the small little hand into her own. “Vasilissa, my perfect little girl, I am going to have to leave you very soon. I wanted so badly to see you grow up and become the beautiful woman I know you will become, but there is no time left for us.” She beckoned to Yuri, and whispered something in his ear. He walked to the fireplace and took me from my place upon the mantle, handing me to Sofya. She cradled my wooden form in her hand, then turned back to Vasilissa. “I am going to leave you with this. If you are ever in trouble, my daughter, if you need help, give the doll a bit of bread and water, and tell your troubles to her. Take her with my blessing, light of my heart.” She wrapped Vasilissa's little fingers around me, and then her hands fell back to the bed. She did not move again. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">A priest was sent for, and the last rites were performed, though Sofya never knew it. As the sun went down that day, she slipped away from the world, and Yuri wept as though the whole world had been destroyed. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">That night, I sat in the dark of Vasilissa's room. The whole house was very still, as if even the mice that so often crept in were staying away from respect for the dead. Then, in the darkness, the shuffling of feet, and I felt myself being picked up by small hands. In a moment, a crumb of bread was touched to my lips, and I felt movement return. I quickly ate the bread, and sipped the water that Vasilissa had brought, then looked up at her. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Her grey eyes were shining with tears, and her face was red with crying. Her hair, so carefully put up into braids by her mother a few days ago, was now wispy and coming down, for Yuri had had no thought for such things. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Oh doll,” she whispered, “I miss my mother. She died today, and I want her to come and tell me a story and rock me to sleep like she used to. I do not know what to do now that she is gone.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I looked at the child for a moment; what could I do? Had Sofya come to me early in her illness, I might have been able to heal her, but it had not occurred to her, and what was done was done. The girl's grief would not be assuaged by herbs, nor a glamor; I know of no cure for loss in the world of men, nor is there any such thing in the Summer Realms, for all their glory. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But I could not tell the child such things, so I simply smiled and replied, “Go to sleep, Vasilissa. Things look their worst by night; you will feel better in the morning.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Obediently, she climbed back into her bed, and I stood on the small table nearby. “Will you watch over me while I sleep, doll?” asked Vasilissa, voice already sleepy. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Yes, I will watch.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And I did. The night passed in silence, and when morning came, I felt my freedom of movement fall away again, and I was once more a simple wooden doll. But Vasilissa seemed to rise in better spirits than she had been in for several days. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">There were many difficult days that winter. When time came for Sofya to be buried, Vasilissa hid me in the pocket of her mourning dress and clutched me all through the service. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Winter passed into spring, and spring into summer. Slowly, Yuri and Vasilissa rebuilt their lives. Their world would never be the same without Sofya, but they could at least go on living together. At first, Vasilissa talked to me every night, then every week, and finally not at all. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The seasons continued their passage, and Vasilissa grew into a beautiful girl. She was tall and willowy, with rich brown hair that rippled down her back when she brushed out her braids. Her eyes, though they were as grey as the sea on a cloudy day, were full of light. She had the light heart of a child who knows that she is loved, and she was always eager to do whatever household task needed to be done. But sometimes Yuri came into her room to watch as she slept, and I could tell that he was troubled. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In Vasilissa's twelfth year, everything changed. Yuri left on a long business trip, and Vasilissa waited for him to return, keeping the house running smoothly and taking care of all tasks as she always had. When word came that he was returning, she ran out to the yard to greet him. From my usual spot on the mantle, I could see the laden horses come up from the road. But two horses were not weighed down with packs, but with people: a woman sat on a pale horse, and two girls, only a little older than Vasilissa rode a small sturdy brown pack horse. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa beckoned for them to come inside, and soon everyone was gathered in the main room. Yuri stepped forward. “My dearest daughter, I know how difficult things have been for you, losing your mother at such a young age. I did not want you to enter into womanhood without a mother. This is Maryusa, my new wife, and her daughters Kira and Dima.” Vasilissa stepped forward, raising her arms to embrace the two new girls, but both of them gave her such a cold glance that she stopped, then stepped back again. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Maryusa spoke, and her voice had a note in it that I did not like. “So, this is the daughter you spoke so much of, Yuri! In truth, she is somewhat older than I had expected.” Her ice blue eyes roved over Vasilissa, taking in every detail and weighing it. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I hope that you will all love each other as much as I love each of you,” Yuri continued, looking at each in turn. “After all, we have all known loss, and I believe that we can find wholeness in each other.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The next few months were like the calm of a summer day before a storm, when the air is too still and lightning feels like it is prickling in the sky. Maryusa made no immediate changes in Yuri's household, but merely watched. Poor Yuri was so intent in his desire to give Vasilissa a mother right away that he did not take the time to consider what sort of woman would make a good mother to her. Maryusa's eyes were always flicking to the fine rugs on the floor, the gold candlesticks on the mantle, and the rich furs on the bed, calculating how much each had cost. I wondered if she even cared for Yuri himself at all, or merely his gold, and my heart ached for the man. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When it was necessary to go to the market, Maryusa took all three girls with her and Yuri, and the family made their way slowly through the crowded space. I rode along silently, tucked into Vasilissa's dress pocket. Maryusa looked not so much at the wares and goods on display, but at the other townsfolk, and especially at the young men. I followed her eyes, and saw what she saw: that wherever Vasilissa went, the young men of the village watched her. She was too young for marriage now, but not for long. Another five years would see her come of age, and betrothals often were settled years in advance. Maryusa watched her own daughters, and saw that few of the young men even noticed them, though they were closer to the age for marriage. From that day onward, Maryusa always found a way to make sure that Vasilissa stayed home on market day.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">At the end of the season, Yuri resumed his usual travels, convinced that he left a solid family behind him. It was in these times that Maryusa chose to act. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">One morning, after Yuri had been gone for two days, Vasilissa went into the kitchen for breakfast, and instead of finding the usual bowl of warm porridge with fresh milk, there was laid out a wooden plate with a heel of bread on it, and a glass of water. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Maryusa looked up from the stove and said, “Times are difficult, Vaslissa, and we must all do our part. You are too big to laze around the house all day. The whole house needs to be swept clean.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa hurriedly ate her plain breakfast and began to sweep. The house had indeed gotten dusty, but this was largely because Kira and Dima often tracked mud through the house on their shoes, and did not bother to remove their shoes before coming into the house. It took most of the morning for Vasilissa to sweep the house, and wipe the counters and shelves free of dust. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When Maryusa called the girls together for lunch, Kira and Dima were each given a hot roasted fish over boiled potatoes, and fresh bread with butter, while Vasilissa only had a salty piece of dried fish and a tough slice of old bread. She ate quietly, offering no questions, and after the meal was over, returned to her room. But she was not left there in peace for long; soon, Maryusa bustled in. “What do you think you're doing? The firewood for the stove must be brought in, and water drawn from the well, and all of the bed linens aired. Hurry!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">So Vasilissa did her chores, stopping quickly by the mantle to slip me into her dress pocket. She did not finish the work she had been given until the sun began to sink below the horizon, and she was very tired. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When she went into the kitchen for dinner, she found that Maryusa and her daughters had already eaten a fine dinner, and were at their sewing. “I'm sorry, Vasilissa, but you cannot expect much for dinner if you insist on being late,” Maryusa said with a frown, handing her a small slice of hard cheese and another slice of stale bread. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">As Vasilissa took the weak dinner, her stepmother took a quick glance at her hands. It was too quick for anyone else to notice, but I saw a swift smile touch her lips at the sight of the blisters forming on Vasilissa's hands. At that moment, I knew her plan, and hated her for it. A young woman with calloused hands and sun-burned face would soon lose her reputation for beauty, and the young men would turn their attentions to others with fairer skin and smooth hands. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Before you go to bed, Vasilissa,” Maryusa said, “I need you to sweep out the ashes from the stove and make sure that it is clean for cooking tomorrow.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I felt a strange warmth on my cheek, and realized that a tear from Vasilissa's eye had fallen on me, and she struggled to keep the rest of the flood at bay. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Yes, ma'am,” she said quietly, and sat down to finish her meal. Almost as soon as she was done, the stepmother and her daughters blew out the candles and went to bed, leaving her to do her work in the light of the coals of the fire. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She sat on the bricks in front of the fireplace for a long time, then took me from her pocket and placed a crumb from her bread before me. When I began to move, she burst out in tears. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Oh, little doll, I knew that my stepmother did not take very kindly toward me, but I don't know how I can do everything she asks! I am not afraid to work hard, but she asks for so much that I cannot do it all in a day. See, my hands are blistered and my feet ache.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I let her empty herself of her sorrow, then quietly repeated my first advice to her. “Go to sleep, little Vasilissa. Things look their worst by night, you will feel better in the morning.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">But I must clean the fireplace--”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Sleep. I will take care of the fireplace.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She hesitated, and I saw the doubt in her eyes. She was no longer the young girl content to hear words of simple comfort from a magical doll, and she wanted assurance that she would not suffer for taking the liberty of a single night's sleep. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Trust me, Vasilissa, or if you cannot do that, then trust your mother who gave me into your keeping.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">With those words, her eyes softened, and without a further word, went to her bed and slept.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Quietly, I spoke a few of the charms that I knew, and in moments the fireplace was clear of ash, the bricks swept clean, and the hearth free of soot. Then, the simple task done, I made my way into Vasilissa's room and stood on the table, watching her. As I felt the power of movement beginning to drain away, I used the last few moments of freedom to whisper words of protection over her, that the sun might not burn her skin, nor the broom blister her hands, nor the ground bruise her feet. And then I was still, and Vasilissa slept.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Things continued in this way for months while Yuri was away. I often watched Maryusa staring at Vasilissa, wondering why her stepdaughter's skin did not roughen, nor her face burn in the sun. In truth, Vasilissa only grew more beautiful, and my charms had nothing to do with it. There is a beauty that comes from suffering born with courage, and no-one can give that beauty away: it must be earned. Meanwhile, Kira and Dima grew more sullen, and though their skin was pale and clear, their looks darkened with every passing day. Cruelty and bitterness make their way into the body as much as courage and love. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Now several of the young men of the village made it a point to stop by the house on occasion, to watch the dark-haired girl sweep the path and beat the dust from the rugs. Even when Kira and Dima appeared in their finest silks, dressed from head to toe by their mother, they drew no such longing glances. And Maryusa's jealousy grew. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa called on me every night now, pouring out the latest cruelties she suffered, and asking for my advice and help. It was a simple thing to do her nightly chores, for Maryusa never stayed awake to watch Vasilissa do them, but checked the results upon waking in the morning. I even charmed many of the household items to make her daily work easier. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But what I found I could not do was answer her one question, “Why does my stepmother do this to me?” Who can explain the ways of a jealous woman to a young girl who has known nothing but unconditional love? She had done everything she could think of to earn Maryusa's affection, but she did not know that such a task was impossible, and I did not know how to tell her without snuffing out the innocence that was such a great part of her beauty. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, Maryusa had had enough of half measures, and decided to have done with Vasilissa once and for all. From my spot on the mantle, I watched her set up the room with precision, then call the three young women in. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">When Kira came, she was seated in a comfortable chair, and her mother whispered something in her ear, pressing a handful of lace into her hands. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Dima, when she arrived, was given an embroidery hoop and a packet of fine silver needles. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa was last to arrive, for she had had a final task to finish. She slipped me into her pocket as she passed the hearth. The fire had been put out, and the only light in the room was a single candle. Vasilissa was given a mass of flax, and a spindle. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Now girls,” said Maryusa, putting on her kerchief and taking a basket from a peg by the door, “there is much to be done, and I expect to find your tasks finished when I return. We do not have much money until Yuri returns from his trip, so you must make do with the single candle I've left for you.” With that, she turned and went out, closing the door behind her. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">For some time, the three girls worked in silence. Then Kira looked out the window, where the sun was slipping below the horizon. She got up and took a pair of tongs from a basket on the heath, and made to trim the wick of the candle. But with a quick punch, she put out the light. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Oh dear,” she said loudly, with a great deal of emphasis on each word. “Now the light has gone out, and mother told us to finish our work before she comes home! Whatever shall we do? One of us must go fetch fire!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Dima replied, “The moon is bright tonight, and I can see my silver needles flashing well enough to work. Someone else must go.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I can see my steel pins,” Kira said quickly but clumsily, “and I can finish. But poor poor Vasilissa could never see well enough to spin her flax by that light.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">With that, the two older girls grabbed Vasilissa by her arms, and bustled her to the door. Dima slid the lock back and opened the latch, and Kira pushed Vasilissa out into the night. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;">“<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Come back when you have brought fire,” the two called in unison, and slammed the door closed. With a cold click, I heard the iron lock close. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa quickly searched her pockets, and found a bit of bread crust that she had left there earlier in the day, and gave it to me. When I regained my movement, she said hurriedly, “Oh, doll, I am cast out to fetch fire, what shall I do? The road into the village crosses a river, and the bridge is drawn back at night. I must go to the woods and see what I can find there.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Why the woods,” I asked, “is there someone who lives there who will have a burning fire to give you a coal?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She shuddered. “Yes, there is a witch who lives in the woods, and I know of no other place where I can get the fire. They will not let me return home without it.” She walked a short distance into the woods, and stood, looking over her shoulder at her home. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I urged her to go forward into the woods, and soon the clearing was lost to our sight. There were no wolves in this part of the forest, for it was too close to the human hunters for their comfort. Nevertheless, I kept myself alert for any dangers that might be in the wood. There was something out there that did not feel as it should, but I could not place the sensation. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa wandered for most of the night; it took her a long time to find her way through the brambles and the roots that were so easy to trip over. I told her to sleep, to recover her strength, but she refused, pushing on through the night. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, when the night was at its coldest, and dawn soon to appear, she broke through the undergrowth into another clearing. At the sight of it, I felt a chill of fear run through me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">For there in the middle of the clearing was a cottage, spinning and whirling on tall monstrous chicken legs. All around the cottage was a fence of spikes, and on each spike hung a man's skull, and a terrible fiery light shone from the eyes, lighting the clearing all around.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">That is the house of the witch,” Vasilissa whispered to me, but her words were cut short by a sound of hoofbeats. She crouched low behind a bush, and in a moment we saw a rider clothed all in black, on a black horse. He rode into the clearing and leaped over the fence. The moment his horse's hooves touched the ground, horse and rider disappeared, and the sky began to grow light. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I could feel my body returning to its ordinary wooden state, and whispered quickly, “If you go inside the Baba Yaga's house, you must never let her see me. I will do whatever I can to help and protect you, but she must never see me.” And with that, I fell silent, and could do no more than watch. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As Vasilissa stood there, a rider dressed all in red appeared in the clearing, and jumped the fence, then rode quickly off into the woods as the sun rose. Moments later, a rider all in white, upon the largest white horse I have ever seen, did the same, and daylight broke on the clearing. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She waited there all day, fearful of approaching the spinning cottage, but yet more fearful of returning home. It was clear that the stories she had heard about the witch in the woods were only pale shadows of the truth, but I could not speak and tell her so. Finally, the sun began to set, and the riders returned, just as we had seen them go in the morning.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">And then came the sound that I had learned to dread above all others: the sound of a high windstorm, with a loud scraping behind it. In moments, the Baba Yaga rushed into the clearing, driving her mortar on with the iron pestle, and the trees tossed by the wind that bore her on. As she entered the clearing, she looked up at her cottage, whirling like a dervish on the chicken legs, and called out, “Little house, little house, stand the way thy mother made thee, with thy back to the forest and thy door to me.” At those words, the cottage stopped its mad spinning, and the door flew open. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The Baba Yaga turned suddenly, sniffing the air. I feared that she scented the magic that I bore, but she called out, “I smell the bone and blood of a Russian! Show yourself!” Trembling, Vasilissa stepped into the clearing, and bowed her head. “Please, grandmother, it is only I, Yuri's daughter, come to borrow fire, for ours has gone out.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The Yaga inspected her for a time, then nodded gruffly. “I know of your house. But if you wish to take fire from the Baba Yaga, you must serve me for three days. Do you agree?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">the girl hesitated. With everything in me, I wanted to tell her to run, but I could not speak. With a deep breath, Vasilissa agreed, and with the witch, entered the chicken leg house. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When we arrived inside, the Baba Yaga spread herself out on the hearth to soak up the warmth from the bricks. She demanded that Vasilissa prepare the dinner that had been bubbling on the stove, and in a short time, the table was set with a large pot of soup, a fresh loaf of bread, and a bowl of roasted potatoes. Getting up, the witch devoured it all, leaving only a single ladle of soup for Vasilissa's dinner, along with half a crust of bread. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Before she lay down to sleep, the witch towered over the poor girl, and gave her instructions for the next day. “You will keep my house for me, and I expect to see the house and yard swept clean. Cook my dinner and have it hot and waiting for me when I return. Most importantly, I have a bag of wheat in my storehouse. Before I return tomorrow, you must sort through it, and separate out all of the black grains. If I see even one black grain in the bag, it's you I'll be having for my dinner!” With that, she slammed the door to her bedroom, leaving Vasilissa alone in the dark. </span></span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She had saved one sip of soup and quickly gave it to me. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do not worry, Vasilissa,” I told her, when my movement returned. “Sleep now, and rise when the Yaga does. Let the rest take care of itself.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She nodded, and soon was fast asleep. With a few simple spells, the housework was soon done, and by the light of the moon outside, I could see that the yard was now swept clean. The charm for the wheat in the storehouse was more difficult, but I managed it just before the Yaga arose. I had feared that she would be able to feel my magic, and ferret out my presence, but her whole cottage was rank with spells and power, and she could not possibly have told my simple work from her own. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The witch awoke, and was out the door in a rush of wind. As we watched from the window, the knight in black returned, the white and red riders departed, and the Yaga herself flew into the woods in her mortar with the sound of a storm. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa then looked around the cottage, and discovered that all the housework had been done, and the yard swept clean. “Thank you, little doll, thank you with all my heart,” she said, but I could not respond to her gratitude. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The day passed in quietness; in truth, it was the first time in several months when the poor girl had been allowed to rest for more than a few hours at night. The only task left was to cook the witch's dinner, and that was a simple matter. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">When evening fell, the Yaga burst through the door in a rush of wind. “My dinner, girl, my dinner,” she howled, sitting her old bones at the table. In a moment, then dinner was placed before her, and she devoured it, again leaving only scraps for the girl. When the food was gone, the Yaga inspected every corner of her house, and found nothing to criticize. Finally, she turned back to Vasilissa. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Very well, then, you have kept my house clean and cooked my dinner. But there was another task I set you before I left; have you seperated my wheat?” With a clap of her hands, the bag of wheat appeared from the storehouse, and the witch plunged her hands into it. But no matter how many handfuls she drew out, she could find not a single black grain in the whole bag.” With a grunt of satisfaction, she clapped her hands again. A pair of hands appeared in midair and clutched the bag of wheat, then disappeared again. Vasilissa was startled, but said nothing. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The witch looked her over. “you have done well with your first day's work, but you agreed to three! Tomorrow, you must clean the house and yard again, and have my dinner hot and ready when I arrive. In addition, you must take the sack of barley from my storehouse, and seperate all the split grains. If I come home to find even one grain out of place, it's you who will be my dinner!” And then we were alone. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again, Vasilissa had saved me a scrap of her dinner, and again I bid her sleep. The second night and day passed as had the first, and the witch had no choice but to let the girl work her final day, and set her the task of cleaning every speck of dust from a bag of poppyseeds. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">After finishing Vasilissa's tasks that night, I used the rest of the time to explore the little cottage. There was not much to it, but in one corner, disused and covered with dust, I saw a large chest. Something drew me to it, a slight pricking that indicated the presence of strong magic. I put my eye to the keyhole and whispered a word for light. Then, inside the chest, I saw something that was worth more than gold to me at that moment: books. Not just any books, but books with strange symbols on the spines, and warnings on the covers. Books of magic. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The witch herself had no need of such things: her powers came from herself and were never learned. But she had no desire for others to acquire power, and so she had collected any books she could find, and locked them away. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I spent the rest of the night reading the books, searching for the spells and charms I needed. When the Yaga stirred the next morning, I had learned what I needed, and the chest was locked again, as if it had never been disturbed. I returned to Vasilissa's pocket just before I lost the capacity for movement alltogether.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">We both waited anxiously for the witch to come home on the third night. When we heard the roar of a great wind, we knew that the time of reckoning had come. The Yaga devoured her dinner in a great rush, then turned to Vasilissa with her cold beady eyes. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Well, girl, you have served me well these three days. You may have found my house strange, but you know how to keep your thoughts to yourself. That is good, for no-one should seek to know too much, lest she grow old too soon. But for your good service, you may ask questions of me.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The girl thought for a moment, then asked, “Every evening, I have seen a rider all in black, seated upon a black horse, ride away into the woods, and every morning he returns again. Who is he?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">that is the night, who is my good servant. He comes and goes to spread darkness upon the earth for a few hours. Ask again, Yuri's daughter.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Every morning, I have seen a rider, all in red, upon a great red horse. He disappears into the woods at sunrise, and returns at sunset. Who is he?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">why, that is the red sun, who goes out to bring light and warmth to all the earth for a span of hours. Ask again, little Vasilissa.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Every morning, I have watched as a man clothed all in white, seated upon the largest white horse I have ever seen, rides out into the woods. Every evening, he returns again. Who is he?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The Yaga chuckled, and leaned forward. “That is the bright daylight, and he is my servant. He rides all over the earth for a span of hours. Now, ask me again, you have seen other wonders in my house. Ask me whatever you wish!” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">But the girl hesitated, seeing the hungry look in the witch's eyes. “No, if you please, that is all I wish to know. I do not wish to grow too soon old.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">with a curse, the witch leapt up from her chair. “Had you asked me one more question, I could have claimed you, and my servants would have dragged you off to make you my slave forever! Very well, you will have your cursed fire. Only tell me one thing: how did you do all the tasks I set for you? There are not many girls in the world who are able to do such a thing.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">for a moment, Vasilissa's fingers twitched toward the pocket where she kept me, and I feared that she would forget her promise. Then she spoke. “It is my dead mother's blessing that has helped me.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The witch flew into a great rage, and the door of the cottage burst open, showing the black of night outside. “What? There can be no blessings under this roof! Get out! Get out!” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa ran to the door and leaped out, crashing into the yard. The fence stood between her and the forest, and the skulls that lined the top were blazing with light. As she ran, the Yaga grabbed one of the skulls and threw it at her. “take your payment, your fire, and never return!” Vasilissa caught the skull, and didn't stop running until we reached the woods. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Once safely out of sight of the clearing, she quickly gave me a bit of bread she'd saved from dinner. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I have the fire,” she exclaimed proudly, holding up the skull with light blazing from the eye sockets. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">then let's take it back to your father's house and be done with this business,” I said, eager to be as far from the Yaga's house as possible. She broke a branch off a fallen tree, and stuck the skull on it like a torch. By its light, she quickly found the paths through the woods, and when dawn arrived, she broke through the woods into the clearing that surrounded her father's house. Every window was cold and dark, but she knocked on the door. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In a moment, I heard the lock slide back, and Maryusa drew the girl in. The house was as cold as the air outside, and the three women in the house were bundled in furs and robes,trying to keep warm. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa!' exclaimed Maryusa, “we were so worried! I heard about what happened, and we kept waiting for you to return with the fire. These past three days, we have been unable to light fire, and any coals we bring from town go cold as soon as they cross the threshold.” In her fear, Maryusa did not berate the girl for her absence, or her unfinished work. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Do not worry,” Vasilissa said, sticking the skull into the fireplace, “we can light our fires from this.” And the wood that sat in the fireplace caught fire almost instantly, and soon the fire roared merrily. The skull was kept on its stick and placed in brace in the wall. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Soon, Maryusa and her daughters grew warm, and shed their extra robes and furs. Then they began to sweat, and their faces were flushed. “Isn't it growing warm in here,” asked Kira, but her mother bid her keep silent and be grateful for the warmth. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa seemed unaffected by the heat, but from her dress pocket I could see the eyes of the skull glowing brighter and brighter. Then, there was a flash of fire that engulfed the room. Three screams tore through the room, but fell quickly silent; Vasilissa threw her arms up to sheild her eyes, and by the time she could see again, it was over. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The fire had reduced the three faithless women into piles of ash; there would not even be enough left to give them a proper burial. When she saw what had happened, Vasilissa fell to her knees, weeping. I could do nothing to rouse her. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">As night fell, she slowly ceased her tears, and got up from the floor. She took me from her dress pocket, and looked at me for a long time. There was a look in her eyes that I had not seen before, and I knew that she was no longer the simple girl who did as she was told. I knew in that moment that she would never wake me to movement again.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She carefully swept the ashes into three jars and sealed them tightly. Lining them up on the mantle, she then set out, with me still in her pocket as a silent wooden doll. She reached the river just before the bridge was withdrawn, and crossed it, making her way into the town. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There was a little house on the edge of town, and she knocked on the door. A shuffling sound came from inside, and an old woman's voice called out, “Who is it at my door so late at night?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is Vasilissa, old Agafiya, Sofya's daughter.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The lock slide aside, and a wrinkled old face peered into the night. “Yes, I know you! But what brings you here now?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">In a voice that ached with an exhaustion deeper than her very bone, Vasilissa replied, “If you please, Agafiya, my stepmother and sisters are dead, and I do not know when my father will return. Please let me stay with you until he comes home.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">At this plea, the old woman quickly brought the young girl inside. She gave her a steaming bowl of cabbage soup, and a hot loaf of bread. Vasilissa ate both without stopping; she had grown very thin indeed. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She slept that night in the old woman's house, a sleep almost as deep as death. When morning came, she woke. She got up, and pulled me out of her dress pocket. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I thank you for all of your help, doll,” she whispered, placing me on the mantle above the old woman's fireplace. “But from here, I must do things for myself. I have lost everything, and I must make my own way.” She kissed the top of my head, and left me there. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I watched her from there. I saw the moment when she received news that her father had been lost in a snowstorm; she wept, but did not break. She was past breaking now. Agafiya enjoyed her company, and the two kept house together very well. In time, Vasilissa began to smile again, but there was always a quiet sadness behind it. She rejected the suits of all of the boys in the town; there were few who did not try to win her hand, but she would have nothing to do with any of them. “Let them marry wives who sing and dance and make merry,” she told Agafiya once, “and leave me to myself. I have had enough of keeping house for another.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Like all who are young, she thought that her grief would last forever, but she herself could not see when it had begun to pass. One day, she came home from the market with a mass of flax in her basket, and in the evenings she would sit and spin it. Her delicate fingers were skilled in spinning, and the thread was as thin and fine as a hair. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">One day the thread was done, and she sat in the warm glow of the fire, looking at her work. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is very fine thread,” commented Agafiya, eyes on her own knitting. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Yes. Perhaps you should take it to the market tomorrow and sell it; surely someone is in need of fine flaxen thread to spin.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Agafiya did just that, and spent the next day at the market. When the evening came, she returned to the house where Vasilissa had been working and cleaning all day. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">What luck in the market today,” asked Vasilissa. Her dark brown hair was bound in braids around her head, and her cheeks were flushed from sweeping the floor. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">No luck in the market,” replied the old woman, taking in the beauty of the younger with a measured gaze. “At least, not with your flaxen thread. All of the craftsmen said that they knew of no loom delicate enough to weave such a fine thread, though all were agreed that it was a very marvelous thread.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">There was silence in the house for awhile as the women ate. Vasilissa did not seem as calm and resigned as she usually did, though Agafiya ate steadily as always. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Later that evening, when both were sitting in front of the fire, working with their sewing, Vasilissa commented, “It seems a shame to waste a thread as fine as that one.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It does, at that,” Agafiya replied.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I wonder if a loom could be made to weave that thread.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I asked several of the craftsmen, as well as the woodworkers, and they thought that it might be done, but none knew of any craftsman skilled enough to attempt such a thing.” Agafiya's voice was calm and betrayed nothing, but I could have sworn that her eyes flickered to me for an instant before returning to her work. “Such a shame, about that thread.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Yes,” Vasilissa said, staring into the fire, her sewing in her lap. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">That night, long after both women had retired to their beds and the moonlight lay in long patches on the floor, I heard a creak. In a moment, I was off the shelf, cradled in Vasilissa's palm, and a crumb of bread placed to my lips.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Wake up, little doll,” she whispered, and her voice has hoarse with intensity. “I never wanted your help again, because it leads to great and terrible things. I wish I had died in that forest, rather than see Maryusa and her daughters burned so horribly. But I hate the thought of my thread, that I spun so carefully, going to waste.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I will weave it for you, if you like,” I replied quietly, but she shook her head. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">No, I will not have you do anything that I can do for myself. But, please, doll, will you make me a loom so that I might weave the thread?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Her grey eyes shone in the moonlight, and I realized again just how young she was, for all her pretense at being aged by grief. “Yes, I can. Go back to sleep, Vasilissa, you will have your loom in the morning.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She looked at me for a moment longer, then went back to her room in silence. It took me some time to create the loom; I had not used any charms for some time, and it was a tricky request. After all, this could be no illusion or glamor, but a functioning machine. But finally it was done, as the first rays of light began to lighten the sky. I returned to my place on the mantle just before the freedom of movement left. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">A few moments later, Vasilissa ran into the room, looking around quickly. Her eyes fell upon the new loom, which was standing in the corner, ready to use. She sat down, without bothering to change from her nightgown, and immediately began to thread the flax into the loom. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">An hour later, when Agafiya awoke and came into the room, Vasilissa had already begun to weave and a tiny amount of cloth hung from the bottom of the loom. The old woman said nothing, but went about the chores of the household, cooking and cleaning and all of Vasilissa's tasks, leaving the young woman to her own work. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">For many days she wove, and the thread was so fine that it took a long time for the cloth to gain any length at all, but slowly it grw, until one day she had a full length of the finest linen that I have ever seen. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Wordlessly, she presented it to Agafiya for inspection. The old woman took a needle from her darning basket, and drew a corner of the cloth through the eye of the needle. With a steady hand, she slowly pulled the length of the fabric through the needle. Both women stood for a moment, looking at the beautiful cloth; then Agafiya reached out and deftly folded the cloth, wrapping it in a scarf and tucking it into her basket. </span></span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Will you take it to market for me,” asked Vasilissa, looking up at the older woman. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I will take it,” she replied, and tying a scarf over her hair, went out. She was gone for a very long time, and Vasilissa tried to occupy her time with her old tasks; she cooked their meal and cleaned the house, sweeping the floor with a vigor that I had not seen from her in a long time. But no matter how she threw herself into her work, she could not keep herself from running to the window and looking up the path. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, after the sun had reached its highest point and begun to slip back toward the horizon, Agafiya slowly made her way up her path and opened the door. Vasilissa darted across the room, but stopped short when she caught sight of the fabric bundle still stowed in the basket.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">My linen would not sell at the market” she asked. I could see that she was trying not to show the amount of pain it caused her. Agafiya shook her head, then slowly smiled. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Ah, my dear child, I did not take it to the market. It is far too fine for our little market. No, I walked up the road to the tsar's palace instead. Back and forth I walked in front of the palace walls, holding up the cloth for all to see. More and more people looked out of the windows, but I said nothing and kept walking. Finally, the tsar himself looked out of the window, and he watched me for a long time. Then, he ducked back into the palace, and a few moments later, the guards came out to bring me inside. When I came before him, he asked to see the linen. His eyes lit up as he looked at it, and I could tell that he was picturing himself in the fine clothes that could be made from such cloth.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The old woman reached into her basket and pulled out a pouch that jingled with the unmistakable sound of money. “As you can see, he paid us handsomely for cloth.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">But if he paid for the cloth, why have you brought it back?” asked Vasilissa.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Well, you see, as soon as he had bought the cloth, he sent for all of the royal tailors. They came, with their scissors and their measures and their pins, but none of them would cut the cloth, for they knew that they were unable to sew such fine material. So the tsar called me back, and asked me where I had gotten such linen. 'In truth, your highness, it was woven by my ward, a fine young woman with no family.' When he heard this, he was much delighted, and said, 'Go back to your home, woman, and have your ward make this cloth into fine shirts for me to wear. Then, when the shirts are finished, have her bring them to me here at my palace, for I greatly desire to see the hands that can do such work.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">As she spoke, Vasilissa's eyes grew bright with hope, but her cheeks grew pale. When Agafiya finished her story, she cried out, “Oh, Agafiya, why have you done this? I was content to stay here with you, unknown, living out my life until I died and all memory of my cursed name was lost. But now you have brought me to the attention of the tsar! Surely such a thing can only end badly!”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The old woman just patted her hand gently. “Come, dear, let us eat our dinner and go to sleep. You can start on the shirts in the morning, and things will look better to you then.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa was as deft with a needle and thread as she was with shuttle and loom, and it was not long before the linen had been cut and sewn into a dozen of the finest shirts for the tsar. Surely any ruler would be proud to wear such things; they were so delicate that I could scarcely believe they were made by human hands at all. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The morning after she finished the shirts, she woke early and washed her face with cold water from the river; the chill brought the blood to her cheeks and made them glow. She put on her finest dress—a work dress that had not yet required any patching—and braided her hair with great care. When Agafiya awoke, the two ate breakfast in silence, then the old woman helped the young one pack the shirts into the basket so that they would not wrinkle. As she crossed the room to the door, Vasilissa paused for a moment, then quickly took me from my place on the mantle and slipped me into her dress pocket and walked out the door. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The day was sunny and bright, and there were already a few people on the road. We quickly passed through the town and the market, and the noise of the plaza fell away as Vasilissa made her way up the road toward the tsar's palace. She did not speak to me, nor wake my from my inanimate state, but I was glad that she had chosen to bring me along. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">It took several hours to reach the palace, and the sun was high in the sky when we arrived. When we reached the palace, Vasilissa showed one of the shirts to the guards, and we were quickly brought into the palace. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa's footsteps echoed on the marble floors, and there were rich tapestries hanging on every wall. She was nervous, but there was also a lightness to her step that I had not seen in many years.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, we were ushered into the presence of the tsar, and I was surprised. I had expected to find a middle-aged man, dressed in rich clothes and suffering the effects of too much rich food. But this tsar was young, with a fine full mustache; he had just come in from hunting, and his rough clothes were stained with mud. He greeted Vasilissa, and begged leave to change his clothes that he might not damage the new shirts. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Soon, he had returned, and though he now wore the fine clothes of his class, he retained the health and vigor of the true outdoorsman. Vasilissa lifted one of the shirts from her basket, and carefully handed it to him for inspection. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">He lightly rubbed the cloth between his thumb and finger, and examined the stitching. Finally, he folded the shirt and handed it back. “This is, without a doubt, the finest clothing that I have ever laid eyes upon. Valet! Come and take these shirts from this good woman, and have them placed in my wardrobe immediately.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">he then took Vasilissa's hand in his own, and lightly touched the tips of her fingers. “Such great skill with the fabric,” he murmured, “and yet your hands are as soft and smooth as the linen itself.” </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa blushed and looked down at the floor, but did not remove her hand from his. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Within a season, the entire countryside was buzzing with news about the upcoming royal wedding. Orders for food, clothing, and all manner of things had been issuing from the palace for weeks. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Vasilissa had been given er own suite of rooms, and a flock of handmaidens to wait upon her, and she was never alone. I knew that I needed to act quickly, but I did not want to reveal myself to anyone else, lest any stories escape the palace and enter the gossip of the villagers. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Finally, the day before the wedding, one of the maids fell ill, and another stayed in their quarters to care for her, and Vasilissa was alone. I could tell that she was somewhat relieved, and a bit unsure of how to spend her time. I could not move, in the form of the wooden doll, but I exerted every ounce of my willpower. Vasilissa glanced at me, then paced about the room for a short while. Finally, she walked over to the table where I sat and put a small crumb of cake to my lips. As soon as I began to move, she said, “Doll, I thank you for all the help you have given me. I could not have woven the cloth without your loom. But I have no need of you anymore; I am to be married to the tsar, and I shall be very happy, which I had never thought to be again. I cannot just give you away as I would any other doll. What is it that you wish of me?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">You've already done it,” I whispered. I closed my eyes, and called to mind the spells I had learned in the chicken leg house of the Baba Yaga, and whispered the charms in a rush of breath. I felt the magic running all over me, piercing me like a spear, and turning my wooden body to flesh once more. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I opened my eyes again, ignoring the pain that still lanced through me. Vasilissa stood in the middle of the room, grey eyes wide and staring. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">I'm sorry, there was never time to tell you. Always something to be done, always so little time...Shortly before you were born, the Baba Yaga caught me unawares in the forest, and imprisoned me in the form of the wooden doll. She intended that I stay forever lost, to crumble away in the snow and wind. But instead your father found me, and your mother discovered the small hole in the charm,that allowed me to speak and move for a time. When we were in the Yaga's house, I found a book of spells that taught me how to undo her evil charm. And so I stand before you now, in my true form.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">She stood open-mouthed for a moment, then reached out a hand and touched my hair, which flowed down my back in waves. “Then, if you are not my little doll, who are you?”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">That is a difficult question to answer. Once, I was a creature of the Summer Realm, Hyperborea, and the great Gate of that land lies far from here. But for many hundreds of your years, I have been outcast, set to wander here in your world. And then, for a short span of decades, I was a humble peasant woman in a nearby village. The village has changed, but the people live on. One of them remembered my former name, the name of an herb woman who knew the skill of medicine. Her name, my name, was Vasilissa, and the grand-daughter of a woman she once helped remembered that name, and gave it to her daughter in my memory.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">The young woman murmured the name, pondering the story. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">It is time for me to go now,” I said, though it nearly broke my heart to leave her. “I must go back and find the way back to my land. I believe it is also time for my exile to be over. Please, help me get to the palace gates without being seen. I do not want any word of a mysterious young woman reaching the ears of the Baba Yaga.”</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">Moments later, we were hurrying down the passageways of the palace. I had a scarf tied around my hair, half covering my face, and Vasilissa had laden my arms with dresses to be sent down to the washerwoman. We made our way down to the lower level of the castle and after leaving the gowns in the laundry, Vasilissa showed me a back door out of the palace. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> “<span style="font-family:Verdana;">Again, I thank you for everyting. Without your help, I would never have come out of the woods alive, or met the tsar who will soon be my husband. Truly, I am happy now, and I thank you.” She embraced my quickly, then disappeared back into the palace. </span> </p> <p style="margin-top: 0.13in; margin-bottom: 0.13in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Verdana;">I set out on the road, and as I came to the top of the hill, I looked back. I thought I could see a pale face at one of the windows, watching my journey, but when I looked again, it was gone. </span> </p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-47808238564657091152010-11-18T09:44:00.000-08:002010-11-18T09:45:55.194-08:00The Treasure<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:donotshowrevisions/> <w:donotprintrevisions/> <w:donotshowmarkup/> <w:donotshowcomments/> <w:donotshowinsertionsanddeletions/> <w:donotshowpropertychanges/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> 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{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:none; mso-hyphenate:none; text-autospace:ideograph-other; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I wept in front of the gate until the sun went down, and long into the night. I had never felt the loss of my land so fully. In the past, the pain was tempered by the assumption that I should soon be allowed back in, and the fact that time flowed so differently for my people that I should scarce notice its passing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But perhaps I had been too long amongst the peoples of the earth, for time was slow, and life had become long, and I could not bear to be left outside any longer. But no matter how I wept and pleaded, the Gate remained closed to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slept in front of it that night, shivering in the snow. When morning came, I knew that I must move along. It had been unwise to spend so much time here, perhaps foolish to come at all. I still remembered the words of the madman in the forest, and knew that the enemies of my people still searched for me. I did not want to think of what might happen if they ever found a way through the Gate.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The village that had been nearest when I was exiled was no longer there, fallen into disuse and ruin centuries ago and even the ruins lost under mud and snow now. It was a long journey to the next village, but I came to it in time.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The village was a small one, scarce large enough to have a market, but there was something of a town square, with a few ragged booths there. I was able to barter some small items for a warm winter cloak, which I wrapped around myself. I could not die from the cold, as men could, but I still felt it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After inquiring about land on the edge of town, I found a small spot that had gone unclaimed by anyone. The land was hard and poor, but it would do. I ventured into the wood and began to gather fallen trees and sticks with which to build a house when spring came. When night fell, I went back to the village, and made my way to the small building near the center of town. It stood apart from the others, and was topped with a rough dome and a carved cross.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Knocking on the door, I waited until a man appeared. He was short and swarthy, and his beard was somewhat unkempt. But he had kind eyes, and a good demeanor.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Please, sir, I am without a home until spring when I can build my cottage. I will keep your church clean for you, only let me sleep there while it is cold, that I may live through the winter.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He looked worried. “It is not seemly for a woman to sleep in the church. Perhaps one of the other homes could offer you space?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I shook my head. “They will not hear me, and this is my refuge. Did your god not tell you to care for the widow and the orphan? I am outcast from my people, and have nowhere else to go.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">he pulled at his beard for a moment, lost in thought. “Please, wait here. I will discuss this with my brothers.” The door closed, and I was alone again on the doorstep.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I knew little about the faith of men, but in my travels, I had seen these black-robed men take in many travelers and orphans, and I knew that they were my best hope for shelter in the coming months. I heard the sound of voices inside, and a heated discussion. Finally the door reopened, and the first man returned with another, this one with hair red as a fox, bald on top, but also sporting a long beard.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I have discussed matters with my abbot, and it is agreed that you may stay here until spring, but only in the places where I shall show you.” I quickly agreed, and stepped inside.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was not exactly warm inside the small stone building, but it was at least shielded from the biting wind, and dry.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There was a large room just inside, unlike anything I had ever seen in the world of men. A large painted screen was drawn across the front, and hundreds of faces painted in gold looked at me from the screen. The floor was covered in rugs, and candles stood in boxes of sand along the walls. The air was rich with the scent of incense, and the top of the room was a dome. In the crown of the dome was painted the fierce figure of a man holding a book of law and looking down with wide eyes. Surrounding him were winged figures of all kinds, and for a moment I remembered the wings of the Lawkeepers, and shivered. I wanted to leave this room, as soon as possible.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The man with the red beard pointed to a small room off to the side of the main one. “Over there is where the women prepare for baptism and marriage, and you may sleep there. It is all we have to offer. The women who come in the morning to clean the sanctuary will show you their work, and you may join them if you like. Now, we must return to our work. God be with you.” they disappeared into another part of the building, and I was left alone.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Wanting no more of the large room with the strange faces, I quickly walked into the small room the man had indicated. It was scarcely large enough to lie down in, but it was warm and dry, and would be fine for sleeping. I suddenly felt very tired, and lay down on a rug to sleep, my cloak spread over me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I drifted into the realm of dreams, I felt a momentary panic: if the Baba Yaga should pursue me in my dreams as she had done so often? But it was too late, and sleep over took me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was not until morning that I realized I had slept without dreams for the first time in many months.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> </span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I woke, I could see thin beams of sunlight on the floor outside the tiny room where I had slept. I could hear voices as well, so I pulled my cloak around me and rebraided my hair to appear proper by the standards of the women of the village. Quietly, I stepped out into the hallway, and saw three women working and talking. Two were old women, long past the age of child rearing, but one was younger, perhaps no more than thirty human years. Her hair was blond and her eyes were brown and she laughed easily. They knelt on the hard stone floor, scrubbing it with rough brushes of hog's hair. The stones that had already been scrubbed were drying quickly in the sun, and shone dully.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“So Anyanka said that the child could eat as much mud as he liked, it would only make him stronger in the end!” One of the women finished the tale she had been telling, and the others laughed.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style=""> </span>Then one of the older women noticed me standing in the doorway, and motioned to the others, who quickly fell silent.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“So you'll be the one that Brother Kristos told us of,” said one of the elder women. Her face was guarded, but not unpleasant. “He said you're sleeping in the women's preparation room until the winter is over and you can build your cottage. We're to show you the work we do so that you can help.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I nodded silently, and stepped into the cold hallway. The younger woman pointed to the stone floor. “These are scrubbed down every week, on Saturday, so that they will<span style=""> </span>be clean for the services on Sunday. Make sure to scrub up any mud that gets in the cracks between the stones.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">They moved into the sanctuary itself, and began gathering up the rugs and carrying them out into the daylight. The rugs were draped over the lower limbs of the trees that surrounded the building, and I was handed a large metal rod.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“This part is more fun than some of the others,” the younger woman whispered to me, then stepped forward and struck the rug a blow with the rod, sending dust billowing outward. Soon the air was full of dust, the sound of dull blows, and the occasional sneeze.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My arms ached, but the repetitive action felt good, and I struck the rug again and again until no more dust rose, then moved on to the next one. Within an hour, the rugs were clean, and sunbeams lanced their way through the dust motes that choked the air. They looked like lines of solid gold, and the clearing was full of them.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We carried the rugs back into the sanctuary and spread them on the floor again. This meant that the weekly tasks were done, I was told, and it was time to move on to the daily tasks. I learned to check the candles, replacing the ones that had burned down, scooping lumps of wax out of the sand to make sure it was clean, trimming wicks, and scrubbing soot marks off the walls. There were wine vessels to be filled, plates to be scrubbed, linens to be cleaned, and more. The work was not finished until the winter sun was high in the sky.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was already tired, but it felt good to do this work. There was something in the sheer simplicity of repeated action, and seeing the results being made clear before me. It lacked the grandeur of magic, but there was a solid virtue in it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I turned to leave the building; my stomach growled from the labor of the morning, and I hoped to find something in the woods that I could eat. I knew the pickings would be bare, but I knew many of the secrets of the forest that the humans in the village did not know, and I could find something. If nothing else, there were certain plants that lay dormant under the snow that could sustain me for some time.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But one of the women caught me as I turned to go. “Don't go. We had food enough to share, and Kristos thought you might be in need. It's not much, but there is enough for all of us to have our fill. We had a good harvest this year, and we are required to set aside a little for anyone who may find themselves in need.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We went to the house of the oldest woman, which was spare but clean and warm. The table was soon set with rough earthenware plates. A loaf of bread was quickly brought steaming from the oven, and a plate of plain butter set on the table. Potatoes were rolled in the hot coals of the oven to roast, and dried fish was shared among us. The food was simple and rough, but solid, and far better than the pickings I had expected to find in the forest. The potatoes were done by the time we finished the rest of the meal, and we carefully rolled them from the coals with long sticks and let them sit on the hearth, steaming away, until they were cool enough to handle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The outsides were burnt all black, but inside that coal-like shell was a large helping of hot white potato, still steaming in the cool air, and tasting better than anything I had had in months.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I still did not feel comfortable enough to join in the conversation of the other women, which was mostly about women I did not know, men of the village, and the state of each one's kitchen. I had never spent much time in the company of women. Since my exile I had either avoided cities alltogether, or spent my time with armies. In the Summer Realm, things were different, and we did not tend to gather in groups as these women did. There were no chores to be done there, and each of us went her own way to do her own work. This would take some getting used to, but it was not unpleasant.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The younger woman suddenly turned to me. “I am so sorry, it did not occur to me until just now, but Brother Kristos did not tell us your name, and I did not think to tell you mine. I am Katya.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I nodded to her, and quietly said, “I am...I am Vasilissa.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Ah!” said the eldest woman. “I used to tell my daughters stories about the princess Vasilissa, who was exiled from her kingdom, fell in love with a man, and defeated Koschei the deathless. One of my favorite stories, and a lovely name. I am Hana.” I looked into her eyes, which were a startling shade of green, to see if she had meant anything by mentioning that old story, but there was nothing there except friendliness and a hint of concern.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“And I am Stasia,” said the woman who was between Katya and Hana in age. She had a scar that crossed her forehead just above her right eye, and it gave her a surprised look. I wondered what had happened to cause such a scar.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“thank you all for the wonderful meal,” I said, keeping my voice low. “But I must not impose on your hospitality any longer. I mean to find some way to pay for my keep in this village until spring comes and I can do my own planting. I must go out to look in the woods to see what I can find.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">katya stood quickly. “You are welcome to share our meals. We are charged with keeping the church clean, and the brothers have given us extra food from their own pantry to allow for one more. It will keep you through the winter.” She smiled again, and I noticed that her face was already beginning to wrinkle, though she was young. How hard her life must be to age her so young, I thought, and yet she smiles.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In one quick motion, she wrapped up the heel of the bread in a clean cloth, and handed it to me. “Take this bread; it's not much, but it will make a decent dinner. You don't have to go to the woods: they are not safe. There are wolves in winter, and some have even spoken of witches that roam through the trees, seeking to prey on the unwary.” Stasia made a derisive sound, and Katya looked slightly embarrassed. “It's not to say I believe in such things, and I know that the angels will protect me, but...well, there are stories...”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Don't listen to such nonsense, Vasilissa,” Hana said with a smile. “the women here tell some wild stories, but it's a simple village, and there are no dangers more than the usual. Our tsar is strong, and he keeps the borders well defended. I do not know what you came here to escape, but you can make a good life here.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I felt as though the walls were closing in around me; though the women were pleasant and the village a welcome change from the woods, the thought of living among them for decades seemed like a prison. My breath quickened and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I swallowed the swelling sense of panic, and tried to smile. “Thank you. I do not know if I will make my home here for long, but I do intend to spend the spring and summer here at least. Long enough to supply myself for a long journey, if I choose to go elsewhere. I thank you for your hospitality.”<span style=""> </span>with those words, I excused myself, and left the cottage quickly. Stepping into the sunlit afternoon, I breathed the cold air in large draughts, tasting freedom again. It would be a long winter.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ignoring Katya's protestations, I went to the forest that afternoon, if for nothing else than to stay away from the village for a time. The woods were quiet and cold, and well-lit on the borders. My shoddy boots crunched through the thin crust of ice on the surface of the snow, and I made good time. I picked up small pieces of wood, thinking to carve them into something useful, or perhaps weave strips of bark into baskets. My thoughts were scattered, drifting between the task at hand, the thought of surviving the winter on the hospitality of the village, and simply joy at being in the woods again. They had begun to feel like home, for better or ill, and I enjoyed the walk.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I should have kept my guard up. Katya was perhaps superstitious, but that did not mean that the stories she had heard were untrue. It took a while for the sound to make its way into my awareness, but when it did, I froze.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Scrape. Scrape. Brush. Scrape.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I would have known the sound anywhere, but hearing it after talking to the women this afternoon sent an extra chill down my spine. Had she followed me here? How had she known to follow the trail of a common grey wolf? No matter: she was the grandmother of witches, and she must have had her way. Now to find a way to evade her, if she had not seen me yet.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I tucked the wrapped loaf into my belt, and scattered the sticks I'd gathered. I leaped into a tree, pulling myself up branch by branch until I found a hawk's nest. I clambered above it, shielding myself from any prying eyes below. The branches swayed ominously, but held.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Soon, I saw her, as I had so often seen her in my dreams since that day at the Gate. She came on like the wind, driving her mortar with the iron pestle, and sweeping her path clean with the broom. She stopped for a moment, the mortar crunching heavily into the snow, and looked around. She sniffed the air, like some hunting creature, and I held my breath lest she heard the wind rushing into my lungs.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The ancient creature prodded a stick on the ground; was it one I had dropped? I could not tell from this height. The witch looked up, and I held as still as I could, hoping that the nest would shield me from her gaze. She scanned the treetops for a moment, then with a huff, moved on, sweeping the spot clean. In a few moments, she had moved out of sight, back into the depths of the wood. But it was not until I was safe in the shelter of the church again that I let myself breathe deeply.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I told no one about my encounter with the Baba Yaga. What good would it do to stir up the emotions of those who were credulous, and invite the scorn of those who were not. I kept the story to myself. I did not rest easy until I had lit all of the candles I could find in the sanctuary. I did not know if the brothers there would notice the lights burning, but at that moment, I did not care. I simply needed the light. Once I had lit the candles, I stepped back into the preparation room, and looked into the sanctuary. It looked much better by the flickering candlelight than I had expected. The eyes of the painted saints with gold faces were much less harsh, and I almost thought that some of them looked at me with kindness.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I knew the stories of the faith of these people, of course. One could not spend centuries around men and not come to know something of what they thought and what they worshiped. The dying god on the cruel tree made no sense to me, but it seemed to comfort them, and I had no wish to deny them anything that made their difficult lives easier. It often seemed to me that the gold on their painting and church domes could have been better used to feed their poor, but even their poor did not seem to mind,. And neither did I, I realized.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It came to me with a shock that I was now one of their poor. They had no idea of my true being, my homeland, or my story. To them I was simply another mouth to feed, one with no home, no family, no ties anywhere. Not fundamentally different from the madwoman who drooled and raved in the market square every day. It was a sobering thought. I had been a horse, a fish, a warrior queen, and a wolf, all respected for my magical abilities and what I had been able to do for men. But when I was quiet, when I kept my own counsel and relied on others for my sustenance, I was simply thus: one of the poor.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“So why is it that you draw the imagination of men,” I wondered aloud, looking up at the golden face of the god in the dome. He looked down with an expression so complex that even I could not fully interpret it. Judgment, yes, but kindness, and something else, something that escaped me entirely. No, not entirely, I realized. It was something like the look in Ivan's eyes when he spoke to me just before his borrowed life was over. The knowledge fo this made me uncomfortable, and I pushed it to the back of my mind. I turned my attention to the screen of saints' faces that separated the front of the sanctuary from the place where the people stood. I had seen behind it earlier, when we were cleaning the room, and instead of grand mysteries, I found only a simple stone block, engraved with many symbols that I did not recognize. It was such a simple thing, and I did not understand why it was hidden so carefully., I intended to watch their rituals the following day: perhaps it was some form of magic that I had not encountered yet.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I found myself speaking to the gilded saints in their screen. “you could not know of such things, but I feel so far from my home. This world is so dark and cold, and even summer here is a pale imitation of every day in the Summer Realm. I miss the warm nights under the shimmering sky. I long for the taste of honeysuckle on my lips, and the scent of jasmine in my nose. I want to feel those long grasses under my feet again, but I do not know if I can ever go back. The Lawkeepers did not tell me that I was banished forever, but sometimes I wonder.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I felt myself babbling, and forced myself to stop. There was no point to it, this baring of my heart to an empty room. It did not matter that the room no longer felt empty; I was alone.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In silence, I pulled my cloak over myself to sleep, but I could not bear to put out the candles. When I woke in the morning, they had all burned down to melted puddles. I hurried to replace them, but Brother Kristos caught me as I placed the last of the new candles and gave me a curious look. I opened my mouth to explain why I had needed to replace every taper in the room, but he had gone without a word and without asking for an explanation.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sat in the small room, with a curtain drawn across the entrance. Katya sat just on the other side, whispering to me, explaining the rituals. It all seemed to strange to me; my words could raise castles from bare earth, create a glamor of such beauty that no mortal man might resist. These words did nothing that I could see; just murmuring and gestures. At one point, a call went out: “the doors, the doors!” Katya looked almost frightened, and hurriedly whispered to me that I should go out by the back door of the preperation room, and wait outside. I did as she asked, though I did not know why she asked it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The sky was clear, and an incredible shade of blue that it only seemed to take on during the winter season. I walked around the building, trying to listen in to the rituals that were still happening, but I could hear nothing save the occasional off-key song. Before long, the people came out of the building, shuffling and stamping their feet to keep warm. None of them appeared any different, though they were all smiling. It was a mystery to me, and I wondered what it was about this strange rite that meant so much to them. No matter, I thought. I would not intrude upon their worship again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Katya found me after the ritual had ended, and slipped me a small basket, full of bread and cheese, and even a simple ewer of fresh milk. I tried to refuse, but she pressed it on me, and I relented. I found a large rock a few yards away from the edge of the forest. I was leery of going so near the woods again, but the rock was in full sunlight, and warm with the heat of the day. I opened the basket and began to eat. I saved as much of the meal as I could, but I was hungrier than I had thought, and there was little left. The milk was sweet and cold, and I drank it all, since it would not keep.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sat there in the sun for a long time, feeling the heat sink into my hair and turning my face into the breeze that blew lightly across the town. I was calm in the moment, and did not want to move; in moments like these, I almost thought that living in the village for a span might not be such a terrible thing. But always I heard a misgiving voice in my heart, warning me that I was not free to make such choices. Koschei and the Baba Yaga still chased me, and they were determined to force their way into the Summer Realms by means of their foul arts. I sighed, and slipped off the rock, and made my way back toward the village.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I had thought to slip back into the church and spend the rest of the day in the small preparation room. I was used to being alone with my thoughts, and this would be welcome.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But as I reached the edge of the village, I was met by the red-bearded Brother Kristos. I nodded to him, thinking to pass by, but he stopped me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I wish to apologize. I had not thought that you might not be of our faith, and did not think to explain the service before. The Church has a long memory, and we guard our most important ritual carefully, from memory of persecution in times past. Katya tells me that there were no difficulties; I humbly apologize.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Should I tell him about the candles? About my long speech to the gold-faced saints on the screen in the dark of the night? But no, such things were not to be spoken of.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“do not apologize, Brother Kristos, there was no harm done.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He looked at me carefully, and I wondered if these priests had the ability to sense magic, to understand when they were near a creature that differed fundamentally from them. Would he know me for what I was?</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But if he saw anything that gave him pause, he gave no sign of it, and bid me good day and walked out into the woods.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> </span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That winter was one of the longest of my life. I am not accustomed to depending upon others for my need, but I did not want to be alone in the woods when the Baba Yaga was searching for me. I needed to become one of the simple village women, and so I held myself down, and used none of my magic, and became as simple as I could. Accepting hospitality grated on my pride, but accept it I did, and I survived the winter.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When the snows thawed, I walked out to the place where I had chosen to place my cottage. Through the winter, I had made a large stack of logs and trees that had fallen under the weight of the ice on their branches. I placed the logs in a circle, and began to build a wooden frame.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The men of the village sometimes stopped to watch me, as they made their way to their farms, or a distant town, or to the forest to chop wood for their fires. Several of the younger men offered to help me build the cottage, but I refused, always politely. I needed something that I myself had made: though I could not use any obvious charms that might attract attention, I whispered little ones, tiny streams of words that would shield and cloak the cottage, hiding it from the eyes of those who would do me harm.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Slowly, the cottage took shape. I scooped up mud from the ground, and daubed it in the space where I had been able to weave no branches, and by the time the stream thawed, I could no longer hear the wind whistling through the walls of my home.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">START</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The floor slowly dried and I swept out the interior of the cottage until it was clean hard packed earth. I planted seeds in the mud of the walls, and soon the whole cottage was sprouted with flowers and vines. I hoped it would help hold the walls together, and it reminded me of my flowery hammock in the Summer Realm.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The nights grew warmer, and thanking the brothers for their hospitality, I left the church and began to sleep in my own home. In some ways, I missed the little room. I liked the smell of incense that had seeped into the walls over the years, and the dripping of the candle wax, and the screen of gold painted saints. Katya had told me many of their stories, while we cleaned the sanctuary, and some of them were beautiful, though many of them were incomprehensible to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The cottage smelled of earth and flowers, and a hint of the bread that I had began baking in a small oven that was set into the wall. I had to walk to the next house over any time the fire went out,to get more embers, but it was worth it to be able to cook my own food.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Spring came slowly but surely, and the green grass spread. The forest came alive with the songs of birds, and rabbits ran wild through the village, chased by the occasional dog that escaped its fence.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I found that I enjoyed life in the little village, when I no longer relied on the hospitality of others. It was pleasant, and though the work was often hard, it was always something worth doing. And sometimes there were dances and feasts, when the music would last long into the night. I never stayed long at such events, for the young men of the village would often take it into their minds to try to woo me, but I always went for at least one dance. I loved whirling to and fro across the lawn, spinning myself around and around under the stars.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That summer, the old woman who knew medicine died. She had been their nurse for many years, and knew many of the herbs that grew in the woods, and how to use them. When Katya worried over the health of her newborn daughter, I brewed her a draught that cooled fever. Soon after that, others came to me for cures and poultices. I was careful to use no magic in any of them, only the natural properties of the plants that might be found. But it could not be denied that I had a great deal of skill in this field, and soon I became the new medicine woman.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was a pleasant life, and I began to lose track of time. When I went out to gather herbs in the wood, I always kept an ear open for the scraping sound of the Baba Yaga's mortar, but heard nothing. Once I thought I heard the cold jangling iron of Koschei's bit and bridle, but it was nothing. In any case, the children of the village often brought me bundles of herbs that they had gathered in the wood, and I did not always have to venture out into the forest for myself.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Years passed in quiet. Hana died one fall, and I wept for her. We laid her to rest in the ground, with a wreath of flowers in her hair, and the colorful leaves blowing into the open grave. I asked Katya, later, why the wreath was placed on her head. The only other time I had seen such a thing was the wreath that Elenya wore on her marriage day. Katya gave a small smile through her tears. “She has gone to Heaven, to her reward, and the Bridegroom is there to meet her. Should she not wear her best to greet Him?” this answer was no answer to me, but I did not ask again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The children who had been young when I came to the village grew, and married each other, and had children of their own. The new children also brought me bundles of herbs and flowers, and so the cycle continued. I was careful to change my face every few years, to appear more aged. It would not do for me to still appear as a young woman after four decades had passed. Those times were a shock to me; sometimes I almost forgot that I was not, after all,human.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But the memories were always there: sometimes a whiff of fragrance in the night would bring me to tears, or the sight of one of the pale curtains of light would remind me of my true home. In those moments, I felt utterly alone in the world, and thought my heart would break with the grief of separation.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But these times did not come often, and the village continued on, growing old and always bringing forth new life.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then one year, when winter was upon the land and the ground was hard, I heard a knocking on my door. I opened it to find Katya's grandchild standing there with a burning taper, a look of fear on his young face. “If you please, Vasilissa, my grandmother is taken ill, and needs your help. She burns with a fever and cannot rest. Please come quickly.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I gathered the herbs I thought I might need, and tucked them into a basket. Hurrying through the snow, I made my way to the house Katya shared with her husband. They were both quite old now, and I knew that she could not live much longer, but I was determined to give her more years if I could.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I stepped through the doorway, shaking snowflakes from my cloak and hair. Katya was lying on the bed, her white hair spread on the pillow around her. She was very still, though she burned with fever, and I knew there was little I could do save to ease her passing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Tears sprung to my eyes, and the words to call the raven sprung to my lips, but I hesitated. I remembered his parting words to me, and looked at Katya lying so still and pale. I knew, deep in my heart, that her time had come. To bring her back would do no good, for she would die soon in any case. Her work was done, and I almost hated her for it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I asked for a bowl of water to be heated, and it was brought to me. I crumbled a selection of herbs into the water, and dipped a cloth into it. I wiped down Katya's face and hands with the fragrant water, and felt her breathing ease. Her heart was beating slowly now, and I felt her slipping away from me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Katya, it is Vasilissa. Your family is here with you, and you are safe in our love.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Quietly, I heard the door open, and turned to see one of the priests from the church slip in. I hurried to finish my work that he might give her the rituals that would send her spirit on in peace. “Katya, we love you, and we wish you well. Go in peace.” My tears dropped into the bowl of water, and I turned away.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The priest finished his work, and we all stood around Katya's bed, waiting. It would not be long now, and my herbs had done their work, helping her rest and find calm.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Within the hour, her breathing grew very shallow, and with one last gasp, her heart was stilled and she lay dead in the little cottage. Her family began to weep, and I left them to their grief. Friends can be a comfort in times of loss, but I had learned that some moments must be experienced alone.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I went out into the cold night, and saw the stars shining clear and bright. I hated them in that moment. How dare the world go on, when my friend was gone,and I would never see her again? It was strange, that I should live so many centuries among men, and not until now learn to rage against death. But until that moment, I had never been so close to any of the human race, nor had anyone that I cared about so much been taken from me. I wanted to tear the whole earth asunder, ripping apart the threads of existence until all of creation went down to join Katya in the grave.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Of course, I did no such thing. I knew that such was the way of mankind: to live a little while, build a small life, and then pass into darkness again. I felt as though I was two people. The first was the native Hyperborean, who could weather the flow of centuries with ease and scarcely notice. But the second was the woman I had been trying so hard to become, to escape from the prying gaze of my enemies. This new woman was human, and knew age and death and time. And I was both women, and my friend was dead.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> </span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was a hard winter that year. The crops had not done well, and we all tightened our belts for the season. I waited to hear when Katya's burial service would be, but word did not come. Finally, a week after her death, I knocked on the door of her house. Her husband answered, the marks of tears still staining his face.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He had been a handsome man, once; young and strong, with a fine brown beard, he had been a woodcutter. But he was now old and stooped, and his once-muscled arms trembled.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“God be with you during this time, Sacha,” I said, offering the traditional greeting in times of loss. “I wished to ask you about when Katya's burial has been planned.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sacha looked stricken, and I regretted asking the question, though I did not know why it should have such an effect on him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Please, come in,” he said quietly, gaining control of himself. “It is a long story, and I would not have you standing out in the cold. You have a reputation for wisdom, perhaps you can advise me.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When we were both seated at the rough kitchen table, he began to tell his story.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I wanted to bury my Katya with all the full rites, but such things require money. There is the coffin to be had, gifts to lay down with the dead, and the undertaker to pay. The ground is hard, frozen solid, and I cannot dig her grave myself. I went to the undertake, to ask what I should do. The price he asked, for seeing that all was done well, was too much for me. I had to leave the body of my dear wife in the charnel house, to wait out the winter until the ground is softer and I can dig her grave myself, or perhaps get one of our children to help.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I felt fury at the coldness of the undertaker's heart, but kept my feelings to myself. “Is there nothing that can be done? Katya was loved by the whole village, surely there are those who would be willing to give a little to help send her away as is proper.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He shook his head. “I thought of it, but the price the undertaker asks is far too high. None of our friends have anything to spare, for the winter has hit us all unprepared, and it will be difficult to make it through to spring with what we have. No, there is nothing to be done, except to leave her in the charnel house until spring, and then I can give her the burial that she deserves. It just breaks my heart to think of her lying there on the hard stone, in the cold.” His voice broke, and a stream of tears flowed over his beard.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I left the small house in a rage, furious with those who sought to make profit from the misery of others, and furious at the world for allowing it. When I went back to my cottage, I began to look for the herbs I would need in the preparations to perform some of my magics. I had not done so in many years, but the memories were strong, and I knew that I could make the undertaker wish that he had never been born.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But as I reached for a handful of salt from my jar, I stopped to think more carefully. To put the undertaker in pain might satisfy the dark hunger in my heart for vengeance and destruction, but it would not bury Katya any faster. Pain for pain was no payment, when all was said and done. With a heavy heart, I undid my preparations, and sat down to think. When the sun set that day, I knew what must be done. As the moon rose, I slipped out of the cottage to do my work.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was simply done, the work of a few moments, then I quickly returned. There was nothing more to be done now, except to wait for morning. Then, everything would be set in motion.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When morning came, I took care of all of my ordinary morning duties, then I took my simple spade, and made my way to Katya's house again. Knocking on the door, I called to Sacha. “Sacha, it is Vasilissa! Come out. We are going to bury Katya, even if we have to do it ourselves.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In a moment, he opened the door, wide-eyed. “Vasilissa, the ground is cold and hard. I do not think I can dig a grave for her until spring.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I held up my spade. “You will not be digging alone. Come, we can do it together. I will not see my friend lying in the charnel house one day longer.” Without a word, he joined me, and we walked to the spot where he had chosen to bury his beloved wife, under a tree in the cemetery.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I struck my spade into the ground; it only entered the soil for a few inches before stopping, but I overturned that bit of earth and kept going. Sacha joined my efforts. It was hard work, and my arms burned with the effort. The morning wore away, and still we dug.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally, when the sun had passed its peak and begun to journey toward the west, Sacha's shovel struck something harder than the ground. “A rock,” he groaned, and knelt at the edge of the hole to see if he could pull it free. But as his fingers brushed the dirt away, our eyes caught the gleam of metal. In a moment, he had cleared the soil off, and pulled out a small iron box. The lock it bore was easily broken, and when Sacha opened it, I feared his heart might give out. For inside the box was a small pile of pure gold nuggets, more than enough to pay for Katya's burial rites.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Oh dear God in Heaven,” he prayed, clutching the box, “I thank You! Saint Nicholas, thank you! You have answered the prayers of my heart, and my Katya will no longer have to rest on cold stone!” He wept openly, and I turned away to give him a moment of privacy.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It had been a tricky thing, getting the box into the ground without disturbing the earth and snow on top. I had spent at least an hour searching my memory for the charms to accomplish such a thing. Conjuring the gold had been simple, by comparison. It was risky; surely the story of a treasure suddenly found would be told and retold for miles around, but it was the best I could do. I had given no-one any reason to think that magic was involved, and I hoped it would be enough not to draw the attention of the Baba Yaga.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By that evening, all of the funeral rites had been arranged. Several young men of the village had even been paid to finish digging the grave. The undertaker was now obsequiously helpful, though it only made me hate him more.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Though during my first years in the village I had not joined in the religious rituals, I found myself drawn to the small church more and more over the course of my life there. There was a comfort in the repeated motions, the familiar words, the rites that changed with the seasons. I still left before the final rite, since I was unbaptized, but over the years we had all become comfortable with this state of affairs. Once or twice some overly curious villager had asked me why I did not join their faith, and a few had speculated that I withheld myself out of devotion to another rite, but in time all the questions had simply been left unanswered and no-one asked anymore.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I had attended many funerals in the incense-steeped sanctuary, but none that wrung my heart like Katya's. When the priests had spoken of a life that the dead entered after passing from this world, it had always seemed like a cruel pretense, a lie told to keep children from crying in the dark. Why could men not just put aside the stories and face death with bravery and honesty? But now, for the first time, I understood, though the understanding was bitter. I could not help feeling the desperate hope that I might see Katya again, somehow, somewhere. Even if it was not true, it helped to think that it was true. I could no longer fault them for it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The funeral was over before the sun went down, and I made my way to my cold little cottage. The fire had almost died, but I found a few living embers and slowly coaxed it back to life. I lit a few small candles, and lay down upon the stack of cloths and furs that served as my bed.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There were decisions to be made. I could not stay in the village much longer, I knew; even if I kept up my appearance of age, sooner or later they would begin to wonder why I did not die. I had to leave sometime, and now that my friend was dead, I did not see why it should not be sooner rather than later. I could easily go to another village as soon as spring came, and begin again. But things here must be completed first. I had no intention of leaving the undertaker to prey on the villagers. Surely the large sum of money that Sacha had been able to produce so suddenly must have caught his attention, and his curiousity would be piqued.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I decided to risk a little magic, and quickly donned my cloak; casting a small charm to make myself invisible to the eye and silent to the ear, I went out into the night.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The undertaker lived in a fine wooden house off the main road through the village, and kept several servants. He was not the richest man in the village, but he was close. I edged my way close to a window, trying to keep myself out of the light. I peered inside.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The undertaker, Basilokov, stood in the middle of the room, shouting at a servant who stood in the doorway. His voice was raised and I could hear every word.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“But how? How did the old man get the gold? He couldn't have been saving it, I know, or he would not have been so distressed at my rates for burying the old hag! But I've not heard news of any thefts or robbery, not that the old man would have it in him anyway.” He paced the floor rapidly.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Perhaps someone simply gave it to him, melted down an old piece of jewelry or something,” the servant interjected.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Impossible! I saw that gold, and those were pure nuggets, never seen the heat of fire before. No, something funny is going on here. I need to know where that gold came from, and if perhaps there is more of it there.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I had heard enough, and slowly slipped through the night back to my own cottage. My hook was firmly set; Basilokov had taken the bait, and he would not escape now.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I closed the cottage door behind me, feeling the welcome warmth of the fire. The night was bitterly cold, and a few snowflakes had begun to fall. I sat in front of the fire for a long time, lost in thought. For the first time in years, I had begun to feel the old strangeness again. I had almost convinced myself that I was human. In my desire to hide from my enemies, I had almost lost myself. But though these years of hiding had been difficult, they had also been some of the happiest times I had known.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And now I knew, somehow, that it was at an end. And even this was something I had taken from my time in the village: nothing lasts forever. This is the ultimate tragedy of mankind, and something that few, if any, of my people ever had to know.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I would leave the village soon, that was already decided. But I wanted to see Katya's story to a close. It wouldn't be long now.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In the morning, I banked the little fire in my stove and went out into the village. A few inches of snow had fallen, and the world was white and smooth, with only a few trails of footprints here and there.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Again, I made my way to Sacha's, but saw the Basilokov was already there. Sacha did not seem eager to let him in the door, and I strove to hear what they said.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Come now, Sacha,” Basilokov wheedled. “I know you had no money only a few days ago, and now you are tossing away gold nuggets left and right to pay for the most lavish funeral we have had in many years? If you have gotten the gold through any kind of thievery or deceit, you had best go and confess it to the priests right away! After all, you are an old man yourself, you would not want to die with such a thing on your conscience.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Oh, give it a rest, Basilokov,” exploded Sacha. “You have taken enough of the gold home with you already, haven't you, without inquiring as to its source? If you must know, I found it in an iron box, while digging a grave for poor Katya with my own hands, because you would not help an old man without two kopeks to rub together. That is the great secret of it; is it everything you expected? Good day to you!” And with those words, he slammed the door, causing a small avalanche of snow to come tumbling down from the roof, which Basilokov barely dodged.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I trailed him all day, trying to keep out of sight of any townspeople who might ask questions about my strange occupation. He would not go to the cemetery, that much I knew: Katya's grave had been thoroughly dug by his men, and he knew that there was no more gold in that hole, so he was restricted to trying to find a way to take more of it from Sacha himself. Though he was greedy through and through, I did not think he would go so far as to murder Sacha: he was deceitful and vain, but not violent. All the same, I kept my watch. When one has a fish on the line, it is best not to leave the pole unattended.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By the time night fell, the undertaker had returned to his house, and everything was quiet, as if the building were waiting for something. When it was dark outside, I saw Basilokov's servant enter the small yard, and make his way out to the stable where the animals were. Then came the quick bleat of a goat, and silence again. Then the servant returned, carrying a bloody bundle wrapped in a sheet, and I feared for a moment that Basilokov had some knowledge of black magic. Quickly moving to the window, I spoke a quick charm that loosened the mortar of the bricks. Pulling a bit of the mortar free, I listened to the conversation through the cracks.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Quickly now, get that skin off the goat and sew it onto me. These clothes are old, and it does not matter if they get stained with blood. With that gold, I can buy a hundred new wardrobes and never even notice it.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Sir, I don't wish to contradict you, but this is not a good idea. It is cold out there, and the skin will soon freeze. Besides, frightening an old man--”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“--is a good way to get the old miser to let go of some of that gold,” the undertaker said harshly. “I'll only be gone for a little while; one glimpse of this costume, and the old fool will think the devil himself has paid him a visit.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">His arrogance stuck in my throat like gall, and almost before I could stop myself, I muttered a curse. It was the sort of curse that any old babushka in the village might pronounce, but mine had the power of my magic behind it. For a moment, I paused, and reached out to draw the sign that would undo the curse. But no. He deserved the words that I had spoken; it was not my original design, but it would do.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When the goat skin was sewn over him, Basilokov went out into the dark, chuckling to himself. I followed at a distance. He went to Sacha's house as straight as an arrow, as if his greed was a rope that pulled him onward. I saw him crouched outside the window, peering in. He was chuckling under his breath as he knocked on the clouded pane.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Give me my money back, old Sacha,” he called in a throaty rasping voice unlike his own. “I let you find it, thinking that you would just take what you needed for the funeral, but you have kept the whole lot, and I want it back!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sacha's voice called from inside the house, and I could tell that he was frightened. “Who is there? I owe no-one any money! Go away!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I am the Devil, you foolish man, and if you do not give me back my gold I shall come inside and take it!” The undertaker pressed the dead goat's head up against the glass; the animal's tongue was black and protruding, and it must have been a horrible sight.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The door rattled, and the little iron box came flying out and landed in the snow. Sacha shouted, “I've lived my life without gold until now, I can do it again! Take it all back, and begone in the name of Christ!” The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock slide home. The box lay on its side, half buried. The broken latch had slipped loose, and the gold nuggets spilled out into the snow. Basilokov scrabbled eagerly in the snow, scooping them up with laughter.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He turned to go, and saw me standing there behind him. I had dropped my appearance of age, and resumed my old form. It must have been a strange sight to him, a young woman with flowing blond hair, standing taller than he in the cold of a winter's night, the fire of anger in her eyes. I quickly stepped back and hid myself in the darkness. The undertaker looked around for a few moments, then hurried back to his house, clutching the iron box all the way. I followed at a distance and took up my spot outside the window.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Basilokov knelt on the rug in the middle of the room, letting the gold nuggets run through his fingers over and over again. His servant stood over him, trying to get the stinking goat skin off of his master, but it had frozen in the cold, and was stiff. Finally, he pulled Basilokov to his feet. “Your pardon, master, but if you do not stand up and hold still, I cannot get the skin off you.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Well, be quick about it then,” the undertaker snapped, his eyes reflecting the gleaming metal. “I want to weigh these right away, to see how much they are--” His words dissolved into a shriek of pain. The servant pulled back in shock, a pair of scissors in his hand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What have you done, you clumsy oaf,” wailed Basilokov, reaching around to feel where the servant had been trying to cut the seams of the skin. His fingers were covered in blood. “You've gored me, you idiot! Find another seam!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The servant found another seam, and began to cut, but again a horrible scream came from the undertaker, and another gush of blood. “You're going to have me full of holes! Give me the scissors, I'll do it myself!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Basilokov reached for a handful of the goat hide, and furiously jabbed the scissors in, but he went pale with pain as a third stream of blood flowed forth.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“It...it can't be...” the servant whispered in horror. “I thought it was simply frozen to your body, but...it seems that it has grown onto your skin. I cannot remove it without skinning you alive.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“That's impossible,” gasped Basilokov, clutching his side to stop the bleeding. “It's just...frozen on, or some such thing. I shall stay here by the fire until morning, and we can loosen the skin then.” The servant hesitated to leave his master in such a condition, but there was nothing else to be done.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Basilokov spent a long night in that room. I watched as he paced, talking to<span style=""> </span>himself, plotting what he would do with his new-gained treasure. He tried to sleep, but it was difficult for him to find a comfortable position, for the skin did not fit well, and he was bleeding in three places. Finally, he sat on on the rug and propped his head in his hands. But the fire needed frequent stoking, and he did not sleep more than an hour all told.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Morning came to find a very unhappy rich man sitting on a hard wood floor in an ill-fitting goatskin. I wonder, now, whether I would have reversed the curse if he had promised to give up the gold. I think perhaps I might have; but he made no such prayer, and I stood coldly in the snow outside his window, watching.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Just before the sun rose, the servant woke and came in to his master. Basilokov was anxious that no-one see the goatskin that he wore, lest his deceit be uncovered and he lose his ill-gotten treasure.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The room had been kept warm by the fire all night, and I could see that Basilokov had high hopes that the skin would come off easily. The servant dug into the fur until he could see the threads that he himself had used to sew the hide together. He carefully slipped the scissors under one to cut it; Basilokov winced, but said nothing. One by one, the threads were cut, and the undertaker grew more and more pale. After the fifth thread, I saw a trickle of blood begin to run down the fur. The patient servant tried to tease the two sections of goatskin apart, but it was to no avail: they had grown into Basilokov's skin.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I left the window then; I had seen enough. My unplanned, muttered words had done their work, and he would have no more power to extort money from the people of the village. I heard later that he had gone mad, running out screaming into the woods, trying still to rip the goatskin from his back. Sometimes he had been seen in the forest, a mad thing, gibbering and cursing the sky. Even now, the parents in that town tell their children that the Goatman of the Woods will come to them in their sleep if they are not good.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I did not go home that morning, but instead I went to the little church building. New buildings had sprung up around it over the years: new hermit cells in the woods beyond, new sleeping quarters for the monks, amongst others. But the sanctuary itself remained unchanged. Sliding aside the locks with a whisper, I let myself into the gold-domed room, so silently that I knew the brothers would not hear. They would not be in for prayers for another hour or so. I walked across the rugs that still covered the floor, and lit a single candle, sticking the taper into a box of sand. The flickering light gave that strange life to the faces of the saints on the screen, and they seemed to be waiting to see what I would do next.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I am not one of you,” I whispered to the screen. “You may be so very great now, but you were once simple humans like the people here, and that is something I can never be.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What was I doing, I thought, talking to a painted screen? I felt foolish, but the words kept pouring out of me; I could not have left without coming to this room even if I had wanted to.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“And You,” I said, looking up at the enigmatic face painted in gold inside the dome, “if their stories of a god become man are true, then You have nothing to do with me. I am neither god nor man, and the only paradise I know is the one that I barred from entering. If You are the king of heaven and earth, as they say, then it is Your Lawkeepers who exiled me from my home. I want nothing more than to return there, to leave this place of grief and passing shadows.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I spoke thus for a long time before falling silent, but it was all the same words. Years of hearing the stories and seeing the faith of the people in the village, a faith I could not share, had built up to a raging anger, and it must be released before I could go my way in peace.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The room was silent then for a long time; even the candle burned bright and steady without hissing or spitting. The smell of the incense was heady and rich as always, and I knew that I would forever miss the smell of this place. Finally, I heard the brothers stirring in their quarters, and knew that it was time to leave. My heart ached for a few moments more, even as I was eager to run as far away as possible. 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10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:none; mso-hyphenate:none; text-autospace:ideograph-other; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I lived the life of a wolf for many years, though I never joined with a pack, as is the way of nature with such creatures. Alone, I hunted; alone, I devoured my prey; alone, I slept through harsh winter's nights. My coat grew thick and ragged, and for a time I forgot the tongues of men, and learned to howl at the moon that shone so brightly at night. Was it madness or grief? I cannot say; perhaps grief is a form of madness, or madness only a wild grief at man's lot in life. But as it stood, there was more of wolf than woman about me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I wandered, rarely hunting the same grounds twice. I saw many strange things during those years. I saw men kill one another for food and the love of woman, and I saw men die protecting their crops and their wives. It was a wild time, and the spirit of darkness was over the whole world.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then, in the midst of my wanderings, I came upon a strange thing. I was deep in the heart of one of the largest forests in the land, and expected to find no sign of settlement, but in a blinding snowstorm, I found myself huddled up against a stone wall. This was no ruin, either, but a wall in good condition, solid and well-joined, of fine stone. I walked the boundaries of the wall, and finally found a finely wrought gate of gold, and inside a garden, untouched by the snow. It was as if summer itself lived there, and kept the snows at bay. The grass was green and thick, the castle within tall and stately, and the gardens smelled like paradise itself. For a moment, I was awash with memories of my home, and the exile weighed so heavily upon me that I thought my heart would crack with the remembrance. In the middle of the garden stood a tree, with leaves green as jade and a trunk as straight and true as an arrow. And all over the tree grew apples of gold, shining with the light of the sun itself. It was a strange sight, even to one who has seen as much as I, and I was transfixed by the sight.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slept by the gate that night, eyes fixed on the tree, and breathing in the smell of summer. When morning came, I was nearly buried under a drift of snow, but the storm had passed, and the sun was shining brightly. The sight of the garden by sunlight would have made me weep, had I still eyes that could cry.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I came back to the garden again and again, almost always by night, for fear of being discovered. It knew no seasons, and summer reigned forever there. Perhaps another of my race had once been lord of the place, or had granted a favor to the family who ruled in the place; even now, I do not know the answer to the mystery. But I was nearly sick of my desire for the Summer Realm, and I could not draw myself to leave the mysterious garden behind.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In time, I began to grow familiar with the inhabitants of the castle, for they often wandered in their garden on clear nights, when the air within the walls was warm and fragrant, and the sky overhead was filled with stars. There was an old man in fine robes, whom I took to be the lord of the house. He moved slowly, and I often thought he did not see the garden at all, but he took much care for the tree with the apples of gold, and frequently took his own knife to an errant sprout or damaged twig. He never ate of the apples, but contemplated them, their light reflected in his rheumy eyes.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Less often seen in the garden was a blond haired young man, the tsar's eldest son. When he did venture out into the grounds, it was only in the company of the old man, and he never paused under any of the trees, nor did he stoop to smell a flower. Indeed, he gave no notice that he was even aware of the scents wafting in the air, nor the bright colors of the flowers. Snatches of his conversations reached my ears through the gate; he was much concerned over his inheritance, how the castle should be managed, and how his brothers spent their time. When he talked, the old man seemed much wearied, but he always gave answer.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The second son visited the garden more frequently than his elder brother, but with a different purpose. He loved to lounge in the long grass, and frequently took fruit from the trees to devour as he gazed up at the sky. His hands were soft and fair, and his brow unfurrowed by any care. Though I did not care for the elder's blindness to the garden, I liked his indolence even less. He would have been equally pleased in any common summer garden, I thought, so long as he did not have to take a thought to maintain it. Here, an army of servants kept the garden in perfect order, and the harvest of it was available for the plucking at any moment that he might desire it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But there was another, a third son. He was younger by far than the other two, and his coloring was so different that I wondered if perhaps he did not share the same mother as the first two men. His hair was a fiery red, and his skin pale as milk, and his eyes were almost violet. He was most often to be found in the garden at night, lying back to watch the stars pass overhead, or examining some newly bloomed flower. He seemed hardly out of boyhood, and I did not think he could yet grow a beard. But he showed more attention to the garden than any other save his father, and there was little that escaped his notice. I had to be particularly careful when he was in the garden, for he was the most likely to become aware of my presence.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In the quiet hours of the morning, the garden was empty, and all in the castle were asleep. I thought more than once of trying to slip through the gate and enter the garden for myself. But the bars were placed closely together, and finely intertwined, and my wolf form could not pass through. In any case, I did not think that the garden was meant for such as I. I knew deep inside my heart that I should leave it behind, for my doom was out in the world, but I could not bear to tear myself away from a place that reminded me so much of what I had lost.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">One night, when the woods were cold and dark, and I was almost asleep in front of the great garden gate, I saw a bright flash, and opened my eyes to see what had happened.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There, on the top of the tree that bore the golden apples, sat a bird unlike any I had ever seen. It was almost as large as I was, and its feathers shone like bright flames. It perched with a lightness and grace that seemed strange for its size, and quickly devoured a single golden apple. It shone all the brighter afterwards, and shone like the sun in summer. I wondered that the light did not awake those in the castle, but all was quiet. After preening for a moment, the bird flew away again, and all was dark and silent.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Dawn came swiftly that morning, and I had not yet left my watch in front of the gate when the tsar came down the steps. He seemed hurried, and went straight to the foot of the tree. His shouts woke the castle, and soon all of the inhabitants were gathered around the tree.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Do you see?” he shouted, gesturing at the golden apples. “There is one missing! Someone has stolen into the garden and taken one of my precious apples!” The others looked at the tree, uncertain; the tree was full of apples, and it would have been difficult for anyone to be sure that one was missing unless he counted them every day.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The gate was directly across from the castle, with the tree between, so I could see the look on the faces of those who gathered. The eldest son did not even look at the tree, but watched his father, concerned. The middle son showed little emotion of any kind, but seemed ready to return to his bed in the castle. The youngest looked up at the tree, and he showed no doubt about the missing fruit: I wondered if he, too, counted the apples every day. He had nothing of his father's miserly concern about him, however.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I must know who has done this,” the tsar continued, turning to the two oldest sons. “you allowed this to happen! You will find out who has done it! Whichever of you can catch the thief, he shall receive half of my kingdom when he brings me the thief, and shall inherit the whole of it when I die.” At these words, the middle son seemed to come awake, and listened more carefully.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">His brother stepped forward, face flushed. “Father! As the eldest son, I have the right of inheritance. I honor your decision, but at least let me have the first watch.” He was trembling, and I could see that the thought of losing his inheritance had shaken him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar looked between him and the middle son, who simply shrugged, and said languidly, “Let it be so, I will catch the thief for you whether he takes the first watch or no. Be it as you wish, father.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Very well,” the tsar assented, turning back to the older child. “Aleksandr, you will keep watch in the garden tonight. Take care that you do not fall asleep, for if you do, the loss will be great, and your brother will inherit the lands I have set aside.” He looked around at the people of the household who still stood watching uneasily. “You will all be my witnesses: I hereby vow that whichever of my sons finds and catches he who has stolen the apple will be my heir. So it is done.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“So it is done,” the crowd repeated.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Now, let us go about our day,” he ordered, waving a robed arm. “There is nothing to be done here until nightfall.” slowly the crowd moved away, each to his appointed task, but the old man stood where he was, gazing upward longingly at the tree. I thought for a moment that he might stay rooted to the spot all day and keep the night watch himself, but with a deep sigh, he lowered his eyes and walked slowly back into the castle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I quickly sneaked away from the gate, lest the groundskeepers found me, and found a pheasant's nest. I devoured the bird greedily, for my hunting had been scarce lately. With a full belly, I found a large log that would hide me from sight, and settled in to sleep until night came.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As the sun set, the chill began to settle into the air, and I awoke. The sun was setting over the horizon, and I made my way back to the gate of the garden. As I took up my watch, I could see Aleksandr exit the castle, and begin pacing the garden. He did not stay by the tree, but walked over the entire garden, eyes on the path at his feet. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and he muttered to himself as he walked. When he passed near the gate, I heard him talking quickly to himself. “He cannot disinherit me, surely he cannot be so fickle. Piotr hasn't the head for the tsardom, and the lands would quickly go to ruin, surely he can see that. And Fyodr is far too young, and too quick to emotion, he would rule with his heart and bring ruin to the people. Surely my father can see this; he would not agree to let me keep first watch if he did not intend for me to retain my inheritance.” He continued in this vein until he passed out of my hearing, though I could still hear the faint murmur of his words, like troubled waters flowing constantly over a stream clogged with rocks and twigs. From time to time he seemed to come to himself and look up worriedly at the tree, and scan the walls of the garden, but all was quiet, and he would soon return to his pacing and talking.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The night wore on, and I could tell that he was tiring. So much walking and worrying was bound to drain his energy eventually; the night was warm and the air heavy with the scent of summer, and he sat down to rest his legs. His eyes were fixed on the tree, but they were beginning to close, though his lips kept moving in the constant stream of fretfulness.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sometime before dawn, I noticed that his murmuring had ceased; as I watched, he drifted off into a moment of sleep. At that instant, the bird of flame appeared over the wall of the garden, and silently alit in the top of the tree again. I thought to howl for a moment, to sound the alarm, but I held my peace. This was not my affair, I knew, and I did not care to change the course of events. All I wanted was the peace to visit the garden and be close to the air of my home. In truth, I had almost forgotten that the garden was not, itself, my homeland.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In a moment, the bird had swallowed another shining apple, and, plumage shining like sunrise, quickly departed. The flash of its leave-taking woke poor Aleksandr with a start, and he looked about him wildly. The bird had left no trace of its passing, and I knew that the young man did not know the number of apples upon the tree. Perhaps he did not even remember falling asleep, for it had only been a moment.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When dawn stretched across the garden, the tsar came out to inspect the tree. His eyes darted over the shining apples anxiously, and when the number revealed the night's theft, his face grew red with rage. “You are no son of mine! You could not even stay awake long enough to chase the thief away, and another one of my precious apples is gone!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Aleksandr tried to protest, growing pale as he realized his error. “Father, I did not see a thief, and I was here in the garden all night. I never laid myself down to sleep, only sat for a while to rest my legs!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Rest your eyes and your brain, more's the truth,” the tsar spat. “The tree does not lie: there is now one less apple than there was at this time yesterday. Enough! If you cannot keep your eyes open long enough to watch a simple tree, how can I trust you to watch over the realm I have built! No! Piotr, move your lazy bones, come stand before me!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The middle son, brown hair still mussed from his sleep, walked clumsily over to where his father stood, trying his best not to let his lingering sleepiness show. “I am here, Father. I shall not disappoint you.” He smirked, bringing a redness to his brother's face. Meanwhile, the young red-haired Fyodr watched silently, taking in everything without concern or judgement.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar looked Piotr over with a harsh eye. “Until now, I have considered you the lesser of my two eldest sons, and the less fit to rule. But perhaps I have been wrong. After all, Aleksandr cannot even keep himself awake for one night's watch. If you can do better, then the land is yours.” With a rustle of silks, he turned on his heels and walked angrily back into the castle, leaving the household to slowly scatter to their daily work.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Again, I returned to the woods, and found a patch of sunlight to sleep in. The forest was quiet, and I knew of no other predators in the area to cause me harm in my sleep. The leaves that covered the floor of the forest had caught the light of the sun, and kept its heat; I slept in comfort until the rim of the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. I shook myself awake, and returned to my watch by the garden gate.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Piotr took his time leaving the castle, and he carried an armful of blankets with him. He spread one at the bottom of the steps that lead from the castle into the garden, to keep out the chill that was beginning to rise from the rock. The others he wrapped about himself, and settled in for the night.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Like his brother, he rarely watched the tree itself, but seemed drawn into his own thoughts. His gaze was far away, focused on dreams of the easy life he would lead as tsar, no doubt.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He did not speak, as his brother had done, nor pace around the garden, so I had no way to know his thoughts that way. But the thoughts of men are often written on their faces for those who know how to see, and when they are alone they take no care to hide them. His face was flushed with more than the ruddiness that the chilly night air brought out, and his soft face took on the look of one who dreams of what he will enjoy, rather than what deeds he can perform or what monuments he can build. Aleksandr could not see the glory of the garden for the thoughts of others; Piotr could not see it for the thought of himself.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The night grew cool, and Piotr drew the blankets around himself more closely, though it was not uncomfortably cold. He was accustomed to his warm bed in the castle, I realized, and had probably never spent the night outdoors. He was not much of one for self-denial even in pursuit of the power he so obviously desired.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As the night entered its darkest phase, I saw his head nodding, and soon he slept. As soon as his chin touched his chest, I saw the flame of the firebird cross the wall, and alight in the tree. Again, it quickly swallowed an apple and after straightening its feathers to its satisfaction, took flight again, leaving no trace of its passing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Piotr slept much longer than Aleksandr had, but still woke before dawn. He did not look at the tree, but stretched his stiff limbs, trying to restore the flow of blood. In a few moments, the sun peeked over the wall of the castle, and the tsar came down the steps. He scowled at the pile of blankets on the stone floor, but passed it by and examined the tree. Almost at once, he saw that yet another apple was missing and I thought his heart would burst from sheer fury.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You worthless layabout!” he screamed, kicking viciously at Piotr, who leaped aside to dodge the blow; it was the fastest I had seen him move yet. “You bring a pile of blankets to a night watch, a watch on which rests the fate of an entire realm, and you sleep while a thief sneaks over the wall of our very home!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“But father, I heard nothing! I saw no-one! I was here the whole night, and I swear to you that no man came over that wall!” His protests fell on deaf ears as the tsar raged on.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My line has failed, for my sons are worthless to inherit a simple potato patch, much less an entire realm! My name will go down into darkness, down to the earth, and never remembered in the halls of men.” He roared his ire across the garden, and it echoed loudly off the walls. For a moment, I thought he might fall to the ground in a fit, but after a time his words slowed, and finally stopped.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style=""> </span>In the space of silence, Fyodr stepped forward, head held high to meet his father's eyes. “Father, I beg your leave to keep the watch tonight.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">taken aback, the tsar stared at him for a long moment. “You are scarce more than a child, boy. The watch is long, and your two brothers have failed it. What makes you think that you will succeed where they have fallen short?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">His gaze was steady, and his voice strong as he made his reply. “I have spent many nights awake in this garden, sir, and I know it well. I am no stranger to keeping long hours, and I wish to rid you of the thief that has been plaguing you. My will shall keep me awake in the cold hours before dawn, and no more apples shall go missing from your tree.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The watching household seemed to hold its breath, waiting on the answer of the tsar. He looked between all three of his sons for a long time; distraught Aleksandr who tortured himself with his loss in standing, petulant Pyotr who resented loss of the power that had been offered him, and valiant Fyodr who was determined to do what his father had never thought to ask of him. Finally, he let his head sink upon his breast, and assented. “Very well, Fyodr, you may keep the watch tonight. But you will be subject to the same rules as your brothers. If you catch the thief, you will be my heir, and half of the kingdom will be yours in the morning. If you do not catch the thief, you will receive nothing from my hand.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr nodded; being the third son, he had had little inheritance to hope for from the beginning, so perhaps the wager was easier for him to agree to than it had been for the other two.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The day passed much as had the two before it, and when sunset came, I took my accustomed watch again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodor was already waiting in the garden when I found my way to the gate, and I had to keep very still to stay out of the sight of his sharp eyes. I saw a glimpse of red robes from a window high up in one of the towers, and knew that the tsar was watching his youngest son as well. Then he moved away from the window, and Fyodor was alone in the garden as night fell.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He moved through the garden with purpose, scanning the walls and checking every entrance. He made the rounds of the gardens many times during the night, always moving, always watching. During each round, he also checked the flowers and trees that grew in the garden; here, lifting a young bud, there testing the ripeness of a growing fruit. His care and skill was evident, even from a distance, and in the space of the night I came to admire him despite his youth. He never slowed his pace nor stopped to sleep.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Just before the light of dawn broke over the sky, the firebird soared over the garden wall. Perhaps it had been watching for a chance, for it did not light on the tree, but simply snapped at an apple in flight. Fyodor, however, proved quicker still. As soon as the flash of bright plumage appeared, he had turned on his heel and made a mad dash for the tree. With a great leap, he threw himself at the bird.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It cried out, veering away from the tree, and climbing back into the sky. But it did not escape cleanly, for when Fyodr fell to the ground, he clutched a single shining feather in his hand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly, but the bird was gone. He swore under his breath, but carefully tucked the feather into his robes for safekeeping. Soon the sky grew light, and the household gathered at the foot of the steps. Slowly, the tsar made his way down to the tree, as if fearful of what he would find. His eyes roamed over the foliage, counting each golden apple. He counted once, twice, three times. Whirling around, he cried out, “They are all here! Not a single one is missing! Where then is the thief, Fyodr?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The young tsarevitch stepped forward, the flame-bright feather in hand. “I am sorry, father, I could not catch the thief, but I did bring you a token of him. As I watched in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, I saw a bird like flame soar over the garden wall and try to snatch an apple from the tree. I leaped to catch it, but it was too swift for me, and my fingers closed around nothing but this single feather.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar reached out a trembling hand and took the feather. Its color was bright than anything in the garden, more intense than the golden color of the treasured apples. He looked at it with wondering eyes, turning it over and over in his hand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a sinking heart, I saw that he was beginning to be as covetous of the bird's plumage as he had been of his golden apples. When the heart will not be satisfied with what it has, it will never be satisfied with anything, no matter how grand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My heart greatly desires to see this bird,” he murmured quietly. “The thief has not yet been caught, and so the tsardom goes unclaimed.” Looking up, he cleared his throat and addressed his three sons. “None of you has caught the bird, and I will not name an heir until it is mine. Whoever brings me back the firebird will inherit everything I own. Go your separate ways and seek me out the firebird.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Aleksandr nodded curtly, and quickly turned and walked toward the stables. Piotr looked reluctant, but went back inside the castle. Fyodr flushed with anger for a moment, but held his composure and bowed to the tsar.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I left the gate then, and retreated into the woods. Circling the walls of the garden, I soon found the path that the three brothers must take out into the world. I was beginning to feel hunger again, but I did not want to risk losing track of any of the three when they set out.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A few minutes later, Aleksandr thundered by on a large white horse, goading it on to a desperate pace. I followed quickly, hoping that it would be a while yet before either of the other brothers followed. The eldest had not taken time to pack for the journey, in the hopes that his swift departure would win his father's favor and give him extra time to find the bird. But less than an hour's journey into the woods, he came to a place where three roads met, and a single large stone stood in the crossroads. On the other side of the clearing stood an alehouse, and the sound of drunken singing came from it. Upon hearing the sound, Aleksandr wrinkled his nose with distaste, and turned his full attention to the crossroads. Dismounting, he neared the stone, and read the legend that was carved upon it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Whoever would find his way,</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Must decide the path on which he stays:</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">To the left, he will cold and hunger know,</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">To the right, death will lay him low;</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He who keeps the road straight</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Will live, though his horse meet a worse fate.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In a panic, he scanned the lines over and over again, hoping for some clue as to the action he should take. I could see him thinking of what his father might think of each route, and trying to make a decision. Sweat began to pour from his forehead; finally, he swung back upon the back of his horse, and thundered down the path that led to the left.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I waited at the crossroads, out of sight behind a large tree; soon, Piotr came down the path at a leisurely gait, mounted upon a glossy black horse. He, too, dismounted to read the writing on the stone. He glanced down the path to the left, and the one that led straight ahead. He only considered each for a moment, then grasped his horse's reins, and lead the animal over to the trough in front of the alehouse. Tying the horse to the rail, he went inside, and I did not see him return.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally, not long before sunset, Fyodr appeared, riding a common brown workhorse. It was shaggy and unkempt, but kept a steady pace. A pack was tied securely behind the saddle, and Fyodr wore a warm cloak to keep him warm in the cooler world beyond the grounds of the castle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Dismounting, he kept a firm grasp on his horse's reins, and read the writing on the stone. He looked down each path for a long time, then at his horse for a long time. The animal blinked once, its large brown eyes staring into his for a moment, before nuzzling the stone path in search of food. With a sigh, he read the legend on the stone again, then swung back onto the horse's back, and rode straight ahead. I followed from a distance, darting from shadow to shadow between the trees.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He rode another verst before night fell, and made camp. Within moments, a fire was roaring in a stone circle, and he sat before it, holding his hands up to warm them. From time to time he glanced at the horse with a look of resigned regret. The fire burned itself down to ashes, and he carefully banked it before sliding under a rough blanket to sleep.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As he slept, I made my way closer to the small camp, and circled it. I had no desire to be seen by the young tsarevitch, but neither would he be approached by other creatures so long as I kept watch. The night was long and cold, and my stomach began to cramp with hunger, but I kept circling. When dawn came, and Fyodr stirred with the first hint of wakefulness, I slipped away into the woods.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr quickly gulped down a heel of bread and a few slices of cheese, then made sure the fire was dead and safely extinguished. Tossing his pack on the back of his horse, he swung up into the saddle again, and continued riding. The forest was quiet and overgrown; at times the path itself was hard to make out, but he made his way forward steadily, and I followed behind. At times, I was sure he heard me, but by the time he turned to see what creature might be following him, I was always out of sight behind a tree or stone. And so we continued in this fashion until the sun sank on the second day. Again, he built a fire and ate a simple supper before lying down to sleep, and again I kept watch.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By the third day, I was weak from hunger, and perhaps not quite right in my head. After so many years away from the company of men, the wolf form had a great hold over my mind, and the wolf was starving. On the third night, I found myself creeping closer and closer to the camp. I tried to keep control over myself, but the moon was full, and the wolf was hungry.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">By dawn, all that was left of the horse was a bloody carcass.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr woke with the dawn, and cried out, upon seeing the dead animal. I sat on the other side of the fire, and there was still blood on my muzzle, but I spoke to him in quiet tones.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Do not fear me, Tsarevitch Fyodr. Your horse is dead, but you knew that would happen when you took this path. Believe me when I say I desire nothing but your welfare.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“why should I believe such a thing,” he asked, voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to still it. “You have killed my only horse, and there is still blood on your mouth.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Believe me, because I have watched you since you chose the straight path, knowing its price. I watched you during the long cold night in the garden, and I saw you reach out and snatch a feather from the firebird as it flew over your father's tree.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr turned slightly pale at my words, but set his lips in a firm line. “And what will happen if I refuse your offer?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“nothing, except that I do not think you will find the firebird. Or you will find it, and not know how to take it back to your father.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He was silent for a while, considering. His eyes flickered between the exposed ribs of his mount, and the blood still on my muzzle. Finally, he made his decision. “I will go with you, wolf, but do not think that I will hesitate to kill you with my own sword if you betray me.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I bowed my head slightly. “You will have no need of such measures, young tsarevitch. Now get up and eat your breakfast. There is still a long journey ahead of us.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">While he made his preparations, I wandered around the edges of the campground, sniffing the air and testing the magics that floated through the air in the area. I had seen the direction the bird had taken out of the garden, and caught a faint whiff of its scent on the wind. I felt sure I could find its home; I was not sure what might be required when we arrived, but the bird was obviously a creature of strong magic, and the boy had a far better chance with me by his side.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Soon, Fyodr was ready, and we set out along the road. At first he was able to keep up with the page I set, but as morning turned into afternoon, I found myself walking slower and slower to accommodate him. He never said a word, but from the pained look on his face, I could tell that his feet and legs were aching.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Tsarevitch, I have deprived you of your horse; the least I can do is take his place.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He looked at me in tired confusion.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Get up on my back, Fyodr. I am well able to bear your weight, and we will move more quickly.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He looked as though he was about to refuse, and took another step forward. Wincing with the pain of it, he relented and fastened his pack on my back, then sat in front of the pack.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Though he was a heavy burden, I could bear him easily, and we moved quickly through the forest, following the scent of the bird and the tiny pricklings of magic it left in its path. All day we traveled in this manner; when night fell, I found a small clearing, and Fyodr set up camp. There were a few scrawny rabbits in the rocks nearby, and I caught two of them for our dinner. Fyodr fastened a simple spit and roasted his rabbit over the fire, nearly burning his fingers in the process.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Tired though I was, I watched the camp through the night, listening intently to all of the small sounds that passed near. When the dawn broke, Fyodr began to wake, and I slept while he ate and packed up the camp.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The second day of travel was mostly silent as we picked our way through the forest. As the sun rose overhead, Fyodr finally spoke.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Wolf, you said you were watching when I chose the straight path, knowing the risks.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I nodded. “Yes, I have been watching you for many days.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Then you saw my brothers pass by the crossroad.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was silent for a moment, considering my answer, then replied, “Yes, I saw them.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Which way did they choose?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I considered not telling him of his brothers' choices; after all, it would not help him along his way to know, and it would not change his own path. But I was not his ruler, and it was a fair question.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Aleksandr came first,” I answered, picking my way over a patch of stones. “he was in a great hurry, and had not even stopped to pack for the trip. He took a long time in choosing, as he could not decide which way your father would prefer. Finally, he chose the path to the left. I do not know what became of him, but with no supplies, he could not stay long in the forest, and I imagine he is back at the castle by now.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr nodded solemnly, with little surprise. “And my second brother?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Piotr came at a very leisurely pace, and did not take long to make up his mind. Did you see the alehouse on the other side of the crossroads? Had you gone in, you would have found Piotr. By now, he has surely lost any money he took with him, and is either washing dishes to pay for his vodka, or he has returned to your father's castle, penniless.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We continued for some time, Fyodr silently pondering the information he had just received. I did not think he was close enough to any of his brothers for the answers to worry him, but I began to think that I was mistaken.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What is it to you, Fyodr, what happens to your brothers? They do not seem to think much of you, and they made their poor choices of their own free will.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes, they have always seemed foolish to me, though Aleksandr is so eager to be well thought of, and Piotr cuts a fine figure in his tailored clothes. But my father loves them very dearly, though he may rant and rail at them. They are his true heirs, and he has thought of them as such for many years before I was born. He loves me too, for he loved my mother beyond life itself, but he has never considered me an heir. If he were to lose either one, it would crush his spirit.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Again we journeyed in silence, and I wondered at the strangeness of a man who would threaten his sons with dishonour and disinheritance, yet love them beyond all others. I did not doubt Fyodr's words, but neither did I understand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The second night was much the same as the first, and again I watched during the dark hours when the stars move slowly across the sky. The small noises of the forest passed by without harm, but at the darkest hour, just before dawn began to lighten the sky, I thought I heard another sound, far in the distance.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sound can be a tricksome thing, especially at night over great distance, but I was sure I heard a sound that struck terror into my heart and set all my hair on end.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Scrape. Scrape. Brush. Scrape.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The sound of the great mortar being driven along the hard ground by an iron pestle, and a broom sweeping away the path behind. The Baba Yaga was roaming the woods that night, and I prayed to any spirit who might listen that she would not find us.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Slowly the sound faded into the distance, but I did<span style=""> </span>not relax my guard for the rest of the morning, even after Fyodr had awakened and bidden me to sleep while he ate breakfast.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">During the morning's journey, I was still shaken from the night watch. Every small noise caught my attention, and I moved quickly through the woods to get away from the place where I had heard the sound of the Baba Yaga's passing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shortly after noon, we came to a great hedge, a hundred feet high. The scent of the firebird was very strong now, and I was sure that its home was nearby. Fyodr was recovered enough to walk now, and we both moved as silently as we could. After several hours of walking around the hedge, we found a great golden gate; looking through it, we could see an immaculately kept garden. A low hedge wound itself into a labyrinth, with other vines and flowers twining their way through it all. In the center was a fountain, and the firebird resting contentedly on a perch beside the fountain. Nearby was a stone table, holding three cages: one was wrought in gold and set with precious stones, another was silver and set with mother-of-pearl, and the final was simple wood, bound with leather. The sense of magic was strong, and I felt a sense of foreboding. Laying a paw on the gate, I tried to understand the place, what charms were active here, and what might be done against them.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“the gates are unlocked, and you may pass through them,” I told Fyodr. “Take the firebird, and put it in the wooden cage. Do not even touch the others. When you have the bird, come back out of the garden, and I will carry you back to your father and brothers.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He slipped through the golden gates and entered the garden. All was silent except the burbling of water in the fountain. Anxiously, I paced by the gates. Something still did not feel right about the place, but I was sure of my advice to the youth. There was a logic to all places of great magic, though it sometimes took some time to discover.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Suddenly, a loud blaring of trumpets split the silence, and guards began to pour into the garden from all sides. Knowing that I would do the tsarevitch no good if I were run through by a saber, I retreated back to the edges of the wood. There was a commotion for a short time, then all was silent. I waited, pacing back and forth, until the sun began to set. Then I saw the despondent form of the tsarevitch wandering amongst the trees, and ran to greet him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What happened, young Fyodr? I heard the sound of trumpets, and many soldiers filled the garden so that I had to hide myself or risk capture.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He sat down upon a fallen tree, and let his head rest in his hands. “I should have listened to you, wolf. I had the bird in hand, and all was well, but I could not take my eyes off the golden cage. It seemed a shame to hide such a magnificent creature in a cage of wood. But the instant I touched the gold cage, the trumpets blared and I was surrounded by the guard of the castle. They took me to see the tsar who rules this land. He told me that I might have had the bird if I had asked, but since I had come as a thief, I must do a task for him in return for my freedom.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My heart sank; this was indeed a setback. But there was nothing for it but to try to complete whatever task this ruler had set for the errant tsarevitch. “What must you do for him, Fyodr?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“He told me that every night a horse with a magnificent golden mane comes and tramples his favorite flowers. He much desires this horse, and I must fetch it for him.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sighed. “Very well, then. We will keep watch tonight, and see where this horse goes, and we will find him. But you must do as I say from now on, or worse may befall you.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">he readily agreed, and we settled in to watch for the horse. Night fell with no sign of the creature, but when the moon rose, we heard the sound of hooves, and suddenly it rushed past. It was a huge stallion, purest white, with a mane of flowing gold, bright as the apples in the garden of Fyodr's father.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a whinny that echoed off the paving stones, it galloped through the garden, crushing many of the flowers underfoot, and just as quickly leaped over the hedge on the other side, and was gone.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Quickly we set out to follow it. Though it was a large and heavy animal, its hoofprints were delicate and sometimes hard to make out among the leaves of the forest. More than once I found myself thankful for the excellent sense of smell that I had while in my wolf form. As morning dawned, we found ourselves at the edge of a great field, closed in by a wall that went on for miles. Horses of all kinds were grazing, running, and sleeping, and in the middle of all of them stood the horse with the mane of gold. Beside him was a tall and stately tree, and three bridles hung upon it. One was gold, and shone as brightly as the mane of the horse, and was set with blood red rubies. On another branch hung a silver bridle, set all along with emeralds that were greener than the grass in the field. On yet another branch hung a simple leather bridle, well used and not often polished.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“The doors of the wall are open to you, tsarevitch Fyodr,” I told him quietly. “But do not touch any of the other horses, and if you value your freedom, do not touch the gold bridle, nor the silver one. Only use the old leather bridle to lead the horse from the field. Then we can take it back to the first tsar's castle and be done with the matter.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">he nodded, and silently slipped into the field. The horses appeared to take no notice of him, except for the horse he sought, who stood and watched him with large brown eyes. He quickly slipped the leather bridle from the branch and got it onto the horse with ease. He had just taken the reins in hand to leave the horse, when his eyes strayed back to the gold bridle. He raised a single finger to touch the shining gold; I opened my mouth to call to him and warn him of his folly, but it was too late. The moment his finger touched the precious metal, a great sound of drumming arose all along the wall, and in moments he was surrounded by fierce men on horseback, armed with spears and shields. Soon, they lead him from the field, and he was lost to my sight.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slipped back into the forest to wait. The night was long, but when dawn broke over the horizon, I saw Fyodr walking despondently toward me. I hurried to greet him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What happened? Did you see the tsar?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes,” he answered slowly. “and I wish I had listened to you, wolf. For he would not let me go until I swore to complete whatever task he set. Three tsardoms away lives a beautiful tsarina, Elenya. He has sought her hand in marriage many times, but neither she nor her father will grant his suit. He is known across the land as a cruel man, and no father wishes to see his daughter married to such a man for any price. He has ordered me to fetch the tsarina for him, or he will cut off my head and send it to my father on a pike.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My stomach turned in disgust. “Come, Fyodr. Let us make our way to the tsarina. On the way, we will think of something. The end is not here yet, there is still hope.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He climbed onto my back, and we began our journey again. The castle where the tsarina Elenya was said to live was a journey of several days, and I was very tired by the end of the first day. As soon as the sun began to set, we stopped to make camp, and I lay down by the fire that Fyodr built. Soon it was a roaring flame, and the warmth felt wonderful. Sleepily I watched the sparks fly upward, fading into nothingness as they climbed for the stars.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Wolf?” Fyodr tossed twigs into the fire and watched them burn, never meeting my eyes. “Why is it that you want to help me? I've done nothing for you, and I am not so good at following your instructions. You are obviously more than an ordinary wolf. What is it that you want with me?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I thought for a moment before replying. “My young tsarevitch, there are some things that you must be content not to know. My name and my story are among those things. But as for my reasons for helping you...” I stood, shaking my coat to rid it of as many leaves and sticks as possible. “Your home reminds me somewhat of my own childhood dwelling, and I came to love it almost as much. In watching it, I came to know you and your brothers, as well as your father. One can only watch so long before feeling as though she knows something of those she watches. Your brothers held no interest for me: thoughtless, self-absorbed, and utterly lacking in any true nobility. You over-reach, Fyodr, but at least you dare to reach at all, which is something that they will never know. It can quickly become a danger to you, but it is a thing of greatness, and something which I respect. And because I respect that quality, I respect you, and I wish to see you succeed and gain your father's realm.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Silence fell over the camp, save for the faint crackling of the wood as it burned down to ash. We took turns watching in the night; I took the first watch, and paced back and forth around the remains of the fire. There were the ordinary creatures of the forest prowling around, but none that would dare attack. In the distance, larger creatures moved, but did not come near. The stars turned slowly overhead in their usual dance, and I watched them. I wondered for the first time how many years I had spent in the world of men. The stars did not look quite as they had when I had lain under the skies in the Summer Realm, though the change was not great.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When the night was at its coldest, Fyodr stirred, and sleepily took his place at watch. I lay down next to the embers of the fire. It was almost dead, but the ground nearby was not cold, and it was free of the dew that had begun to form elsewhere. I stretched out, and began to dream.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I found myself in my true form, wandering in a forest. but it was not the same forest. That had been open and full of light between the trees, and this was a very old forest, dark and tangled. I could not seem to find the path that I was seeking, and I moved slowly, held back by the dead and twisted vines that caught at my feet. In the distance, I thought I saw a patch of light, where the trees were thinner and less crowded together. Stumbling, I made my way to it, finally pulling apart a curtain of grey vines with my hands.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There in the clearing was a small cottage, made of weathered and ancient wood. It stood on a pair of chicken legs, and it whirled and turned constantly, dizzying in its speed. Around it was placed a fence of spikes, and on each spike was placed a man's skull; the eyes of the skulls were filled with light, casting strange shadows around the clearing. I stood transfixed by the chicken-leg house, until a sound startled me and I turned around. There, not three feet from where I stood, sat the Baba Yaga in her great mortar, staring at me with baleful yellow eyes. Her grey hair was long and lank, and her breasts sagged like old burlap sacks. There was not a tooth left in her rotten mouth, and her breath was foul and hot.<span style=""> </span>We stared at each other for a long moment, then a terrible smile spread across her lips.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The sight of that smile woke me from my sleep, and if I had not been in the form of the wolf, I would have woken with a scream in my throat. As it was, I snarled, looking around for the witch. I could still feel her breath on my face, and smell her stench, but there was no one there, and the forest was quiet. Dawn was breaking through the trees, and the birds had begun to sing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr gave me a strange look, but said nothing. As he rekindled the fire, I hunted for anything that might serve for our morning meal, but only caught a single skinny rabbit. It was not much for either of us, but it was enough to go on.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The day was long, and my paws began to ache from carrying the weight of Fyodr over rocks, fallen branches, and hard ground. We still made good time, however, and when we finally made camp on the second night, I could see the tsar's castle far in the distance. We would reach it within a few hours the next morning, but I did not want to try to travel the remaining distance at night. Soon the fire was built, and I had found a plump pheasant that was soon roasting on a spit. Fed and rested, Fyodr offered to take the first watch of the night. I agreed, and was soon asleep. The memory of the previous night's dream still lingered, but I was very tired, and sleep came easily.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Again, I found myself wandering through an overgrown wood, and again I came upon the clearing with the chicken leg house. I looked behind me, but this time the forest was empty, and there was no sign of the witch. But soon I heard the sound of her mortar and pestle scraping the ground, and the sound of her broom as she swept her trail clear. She seemed to be singing some gibberish song under her breath, but sometimes the singing fell away to a murmur that I could not make out.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Everything in me yearned to run away from the clearing as fast as I could, but as is often true in dreams, my feet were rooted to the spot. Soon I saw her, flying across the ground, from the other side of the clearing. She had tucked the broom under one arm, and was fingering a handful of small bones, counting them over and over again. When she came closer, I could see that the bones were the delicate finger bones of a man's hand, with bits of rotten flesh still clinging to the surface. The smell of the grave washed over me in a sickening wave, and I retched.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hearing this sound, the witch looked up, fixing me with her yellow eyes. Her voice raised into a shriek, and the skulls along her spiked fence all turned their glowing eyes to look. The clearing shone bright in their light, and the witch drove her mortar straight at me, howling like the wind of a storm at sea. I cowered and covered my head with my arms, trying to ward off the blow of her iron pestle, but the movement woke me, and I scrambled to my feet in the forest on the edge of the tsar's lands. The night was cold, dark, and empty.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next morning passed quickly, as we broke camp and hurried to the castle where Tsarevna Elenya lived. When we neared the castle walls, I stopped.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Why have you stopped,” Fyodr asked, craning his neck to look up at the castle. “A little further, and we will be there!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes,” I said, shrugging him off my back, “and that is why you are staying here. You are a good man, Tsarevitch Fyodr, but this is our last chance to get the firebird for your father and win you your inheritance. I will not allow your eyes to be drawn by gold or gems. I will get the Tsarevna.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I shudder at the thought of turning her over to a man with the reputation for cruelty that Tsar Smerdya has.” Fyodr looked disgusted.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“We will not let him near her, but he must have word that the Tsarevna has disappeared from her home, or our ruse will be discovered,” I explained, eyeing the fields that lay outside the ground of the palace.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Ruse? What ruse is that, wolf?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“The one that I have not yet told you. It came to me yesterday as we made our way through the wood. Trust and have patience, Tsarevitch, I have not lead you wrong yet.” With those words, I darted off to the palace. I had seen silk curtains fluttering from a balcony, and suspected that the Tsarevna might be found there. When I found myself directly below the balcony, I listened carefully, and found my suspicions confirmed: this was her room.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Staying well hidden behind a tree, I resumed my true form for a few moments. Closing my eyes, and remembering the skills I had once known in the Summer Realm, I began to sing. At first the song blended with the bird song, enhancing it and adding a note of poignancy. The chatter from the room above the balcony lessened, then faded into silence altogether. Slowly, my song pulled free of the bird song, and became its own melody. It called out and pulled at the hearts of any who heard it. I sang of open skies and fresh winds, of cool clear air and the smell of grass wet with dew. After a few minutes, I let it drift into silence again, and it was charmed that those who heard it would not remember the song itself, but it would bury itself in their hearts, working even when the memory was gone.<span style=""> </span>In an instant, I resumed the wolf form, and lay down to wait.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Within an hour, I heard the gates of the palace creak open, and the voices of women spilled out into the air. Many of them seemed unable to speak without giggling, but the Tsarevna seemed to be listening. She was a beautiful young woman, with hair as black as the night, pulled into a long braid that hung nearly to her knees. She was robed in red silks and velvet, and her skin was as pale as milk. Her large grey eyes were soft and sensitive, and glowed with intelligence. No wonder the Tsar Smerdya desired her, I thought, and no wonder her father was so loathe to let her go.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The gaggle of girls walked here and there, plucking flowers from the edge of the forest, and braiding them into their hair. One of them practiced her dancing, and several merely walked quietly with the Tsarevna. Too many of them, I thought, too many to see and report. Softly, I began my song again, so low that it could barely be heard, but I saw the Tsarevna's eyes blink and begin to close.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Friends, I am so tired,” she said, laughing even as she yawned. “I think it must be the warmth of the sun.” She lay down in a patch of flowers, and began to breathe deeply, sleep stealing over her. The others smiled and laughed, sushing each other and tiptoeing a distance away so as not to wake their friends.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I kept the song going as long as I could, knowing that its effects would be short. In a moment, I dashed out from the woods, scooped the sleeping Tsarevna onto my back, and turned to flee through the woods. I was through the first row of trees before any of the other girls could exclaim, and by the time the alarm was raised at the castle, we were long gone.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Dashing by the spot where I had left Fyodr, I called to him to swing up onto my back, and I ran on, despite the weight I carried. When we were far beyond the hearing of the castle, I slowed to a halt, and Fyodr slipped to the ground. Taking the hand of the Tsarevna, he looked at her as if checking to see if she were hurt. As his eyes ran over her, I could see that he admired her clear skin, dark hair, and the beauty of her face. A tremor of dread crept down my spine, but the deed was done, and everything was in play: things would now happen as they must. We continued walking as fast as we could, increasing the distance between us and the castle with every step.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As the sun began to sink, the Tsarevna began to wake. At first, she was frightened to find herself in the forest with a strange youth and a large grey wolf, but soon she came to understand that we meant her no harm. Indeed, it was Fyodr, with his calm strong voice and pleasant demeanor, that did most of the work. I could see her taking in his fine red hair, strong arms, and air of determination. The two were soon talking like old friends while he built the fire, and I caught a trio of wild hens for the evening meal.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I did not care to dream of the grandmother of witches again, and offered to keep the watch all through the night. Fyodr agreed, and soon he was asleep at the Tsarevna's side, their hands entwined.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The night was long, but I preferred it to waking up with a scream in my throat. The forest was quiet except for the comings and goings of small creatures, and the stars moved slowly overhead. When the first light of dawn began to show, I made my way down to a creek that I heard burbling, and soon three large fish were gasping on the shore. I carried them back to Fyodr, who cooked them on a large flat rock beside the fire, and the three of us ate eagerly before setting out on our way.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The journey back to the castle was in many ways very pleasant. The forest was quiet except for the sound of Fyodr and Elenya chattering away, and the days passed quickly. But as we neared the lands of Tsar Smerdya, I began to be troubled, and I could tell that Fyodr's heart was heavy. On the morning of the third day, as Elenya was bathing down in a stream, Fyodr opened his heart in a rush.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“We cannot take her to Smerdya, wolf,” he cried, striking his fist against his palm. “He is a cruel man, and she is young and innocent. It would be a crime.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I think there is more to your protest,” I replied calmly, watching him fret. He cast about for a moment, then threw his hands into the air.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes! I love her, wolf, I have fallen in love with the Tsarevna Elenya, and I would rather die than see her married to another man, particularly one so vile as Smerdya.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“It is as I feared, then.” I sighed. “I told you that I would find a plan, Fyodr, and I have done so. It is daring, and risky, and will require much, but not of you.” Moving closer to him, I began to speak of what we would do that day.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The people of Smerdya's lands did not know that Fyodr had travelled with a large grey wolf; I had kept myself carefully out of sight when he was in the tsar's castle. So it did not surprise them to see Fyodr walk out of the woods, with only the beautiful Tsarevna by his side.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What no-one would have guessed is that Elenya stood alone in the woods, bravely waiting for her tsarevitch to return to her. I stood at his side in front of the tsar, clothed in her rich silks and velvets, clothed in her form.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr presented me to the tsar, who had already heard the wild tale of how the Tsarevna had been snatched from where she lay sleeping at her father's castle. His eyes glinted with greed, and I hated the way his eyes roved over my body, heavily robed as it was.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You have done well, Fyodr,” he said, voice booming around the room. “And she is every bit as beautiful as I have heard! Well, Tsarevna, will you consent to stay and be my bride? I have ten times the wealth of your father, and you may do as you like with it. In fact, I should take special delight in seeing you spend the wealth of half my kingdom on...robes.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I hoped that I kept the flash of fury out of my eyes as I spoke, keeping my voice soft and passive. “As you wish, sir, I have only the desire to be a good wife, and to do as I ought for my honored husband.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He laughed, which I found a rather sickening sound. “She has changed her tune somewhat since I heard her last! Of course, then she would not even see me, but sent a messenger with her response. Now that I come to think of it, I wonder if her father did not send that message himself. The girl herself probably never even knew the offer was made.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How easily greed and vanity are drawn into a trap, I thought, but said nothing, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. Only a few hours more, and it would be over. Only a few more hours.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Summon a priest,” the tsar shouted to a servant, who rushed out of the room to do his bidding. “Let him know that I wish to be married first thing tomorrow, and he had best be ready to perform the ceremony with utmost haste. And you!” he pointed to another servant, who stepped forward. “Tell the kitchens to prepare a great feast. After all, it would be a poor wedding without food!” he laughed at his own wit, and finally stood, crossing the room to take my hand. His fingers were hot and sweaty, and I cringed inwardly as he clutched my hand, planting a dry kiss on the palm. “You had best rest today, Tsarevna,” he said quietly, with a slight hoarseness in the back of his throat. “Tomorrow will be a very busy day.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally, his servants showed me to the room I was to occupy until the marriage; as soon as they were gone, I turned the key in the lock and breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was over, now it only remained to wait until nightfall. The day drew on slowly, and the room was overly warm, trapping in the heat of the sun. I paced back and forth, to and from the window. A servant came in to call me down to dinner, but I refused, pleading the need to prepare my wardrobe for the marriage the next day. Soon, another servant appeared with a steaming plate of food, sent up from the kitchens. I took the plate and closed the door.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My mind was consumed by the nearness of the time for my departure, and in my hurry, I forgot to lock the door. I ate a few bites hungrily, having not eaten since we broke camp that morning. Suddenly, I heard the creak of the door, and turned around. There stood Tsar Smerdya, closing the door behind him. I saw that the key was still in the lock, and reached for it, but he turned the lock and pocketed the key. His forehead was shiny with a thin layer of sweat, and his eyes were hungry.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What are you--” I began to protest, but he pressed his mouth to mine, hard, and his clumsy hands fumbled with my robes. Horrified, I pushed him away, and he laughed.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“How dare you! We are not yet married, and even so, I am not some village tramp to be taken without asking!” I hoped to stall him longer, to give Fyodr and Elenya more time to get away from the castle, and to give myself the cover of night to make my escape. The fewer eyes that saw a large grey wolf leaping from the tsarevna's balcony, the better.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Oh, do you think yourself so fine, then,” scoffed the lecher, grabbing my arm with a hand hot and grasping. “I care about no words of a miserly priest, nor about any ceremony in a golden-domed church. You are mine now whether you will it or no, and I will have what I want from you.” With these words, he made as if to twist my arm behind my back. He ought not to have done so to any woman, but he particularly came to regret doing so to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a strength he did not expect from a quiet, well-bred tsarevna, I turned away from him, bringing my hand up strongly. The heel of my hand crashed into his chin, and I heard a sharp crack as his teeth met. Before he could even cry out, I had wrenched my arm free of his grasp, and whirled away. He turned to face me again, blood dripping from his lip where he had bitten it, and cursed vilely. I sang three quick notes, sharp as daggers and swift as lightning, and he howled in pain as the bones in his arm twisted below the skin. Another triplet, and his knee gave way, dropping him to the floor with a heavy thud. One final note swept out from my mouth, and Smerdya groaned and vomited as his stomach rebelled.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“let that be a lesson to you,” I hissed, “to take no more from any woman than what she will give freely. You have escaped lightly, now go back to your hole, you fox!” He crawled out of the room on his hands and knees, blood and bile leaving a shiny trail behind him, like some overgrown slug.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a leap, I crossed the room and leapt out of the window; when my feet hit the ground, I had once again taken the form of the wolf. Raising my nose to catch Ivan's scent, I dashed away into the woods, seen only by the unblinking eye of the moon.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Surely this will not go unnoticed,” Fyodr protested, after I had finished telling my story. The three of us sat around a crackling fire, warding ourselves against the cold of the night air, while the horse with the golden mane, which the Tsar had given to Ivan as he promised, grazed on a tether. “now there will be no wedding, and the tsar will certainly wish to have his vengeance.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I do not think so,” said Elenya quietly. She had said little throughout the evening, keeping her own counsel save for a word here and there. “Smerdya prides himself on his reputation with the local women, and if it is known that a single young woman left him crawling in his own filth, his name will be a laughingstock for miles around. I think he will likely spread the story that he found some flaw in the young tsarevna, and sent her away.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I agreed, and Fyodr protested no further, though I could tell that he still worried. Every few moments, he would raise his head and scan the dark forest, though not even a rabbit was near us. He offered to take the first watch, and Elenya and I curled up together under our single blanket, to keep each other warm during the cold night. She dropped off to sleep almost instantly, but my body was still tense from the narrow escape, and sleep came much slower to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But come it did.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was no longer wandering through the dark and tangled forest of my former dreams, but instead I stood on the tall rocks, overlooking the sea where the fisherman's wife had thrown herself into the waves. The ocean was rough, whipped by wind into a frenzy, the waves crashing at my feet and drenching everything around with the spray. I watched the waters, and soon I could see a black dot out in the mouth of the bay, coming closer and closer through the storm.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As it neared the rocks, I could see that it was the Baba Yaga, sitting in her mortar which carried her like a boat across the waters. She held the iron pestle high, and lightning ran down it in electric rivulets, turning the ocean around her into steam. She swung the pestle in a great arc, and the lightning leaped from it to a rock that stood in the middle of the harbor. With a great crack, it split in two and sank below the surface.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As her mortar drew closer to the shore, she looked up at me. With a vehemence that I could not understand, she pointed the pestle at the rocks I stood upon. The lightning raced along the iron rod and lanced out to the stones. They crackled with a great rumbling, and I felt them split under my feet. Then I was falling, falling into deep water, and hands reached up to drag me down into the depths...</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I awoke with a jolt, and scrambled to my feet, still feeling the cold clammy clutch of those dead hands under the water. Elenya stirred slightly, but did not wake. I looked around the campsite, but all was quiet and still. Fyodr sat with his back propped up against a tree, scanning the forest all around. I went and sat beside him, watching as our breath made puffs of vapor in the cold air.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“It's still early for your watch,” he finally said. “You should go back to sleep, I'll let you know when it's your turn.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I've had enough of sleep for a while, I think,” I said. “Go. Keep Elenya warm. Check on the horse. You will need your energy for the journey back, for we are a long way from the castle of your father, and there is much to be done between now and then.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But neither of us left to sleep, and Fyodr kept his eyes on the forest. “Wolf, I think I love Elenya, but I have not the right to ask her for her hand. My father's tsardom is small, and her father is the ruler of many lands.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“She seems to care for you, at least as much as a young girl may care in the space of a few short days.” This answer did not seem to satisfy him, and he pressed on.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Wolf, you seem to know much of the world, both of the kingdoms of men, and the hidden ways of magic. Tell me how to win Elenya's hand.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sighed, and lay down beside him, my wolf fur shielding me from the chill of the earth. “you will not win a heart with magic, Fyodr. Only love wins a heart. Show her that you care for her. Protect her against all dangers. When you have the firebird and have claimed your father's inheritance, take all of your wealth and go to her father, and ask for her hand. Show him that his daughter will be treated as she deserves. But in all things, make sure it is really you she wants, for if you are not her heart's desire, it will all come to ruin in the end.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He thought for a moment. “Your words are not very poetic, wolf. I had thought to hear more of fine words and pretty songs, and not warnings of unrequited love.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“All human love is unrequited in the end,” I said. “No man loves his wife as she wishes to be loved, and no wife loves her husband as he wishes. Such is the way of your race. But you try very hard, and sometimes it is almost enough.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We sat in silence for a while longer, then without a word, he got up, went back to the fire, stirring up the embers and adding a few dry sticks, then lay down beside Elenya.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The rest of the night was quiet, and the forest was still.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We made very good time back to the first tsar's castle: the horse with the golden mane carried Elenya and Fyodr easily, and I ran much faster through the woods without their weight on my back.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When we arrived, the tsar welcomed us with trumpets and a guard to escort us into his presence. The horse was taken by the head groom and lead away to the stables. I had offered to take on the form of the horse and make the same switch that I had in Smerdya's castle, but he refused. “I may be a thief and a scoundrel, and very bad at following directions, but I am at least not a horse thief. I am content with the horses in my father's stables.” Secretly, I was glad: I had had enough of exchanges.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar stood as we entered his throne room, and extended his arms. “Ah, and here Fyodr returns, and not alone! Who are your companions, boy?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr paused before answering cautiously. “The woman you see is my betrothed, whom I found in the woods, far from her home. I am taking her back to my father's castle to await our marriage. The wolf is my guard, and has kept me safe around my fire in the woods these past nights.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar nodded, accepting the answer with calm. “And now you wish to have my beautiful firebird, to take back to your father that you may not lose your inheritance.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He nodded, and I saw him swallow hard with nervousness. All hinged on this: if he did not return with the firebird, the weeks of hardship—the days of forging through the forest, the escape from Smerdya, the cold nights in the wood—would have been for nothing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“All I ask of you is a simple promise,” the tsar said, leaning forward. “You know that my bird is not caged, but flies free as he pleases at night. I ask that you give him the same freedom as I have, that he may come and visit me at times to bring joy to my heart.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a sigh of relief, Fyodr quickly agreed. The tsar beckoned, and we followed him through the halls of the palace and into the garden where the firebird was perched. Dusk was coming on, and the bird gleamed so brightly that I thought its feathers cast light on the ground at the foot of its perch.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar took the golden cage off its hook, and coaxed the beautiful bird into it. Handing it carefully to Fyodr, he said quietly, “Such things cannot be taken, only given. You would do well to remember it, for many things in life are so.” Fyodr nodded solemnly, and took the cage.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We spent that night as guests of the tsar: there was a feast in the great hall, with beer and wine that flowed all night, and an array of foods that never seemed to come to an inn. Though I kept my wolf form, I was welcome in the hall, and it was pleasing for once, to eat a meal that I myself had not worked to catch. Fyodr and Elenya were seated on either side of the tsar as his guests of honor. Though both laughed and talked with those around them, applauded the musicians, and ate their dinner, I could not help but notice the way that Elenya's eyes would drift over to Fyodr, and his to hers. They would not stay unmarried long once their reached his father's castle, I thought.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar, who had not seemed to take any special notice of their attentions, must have been aware of their ardor, for he sent them to separate wings of the castle for their sleep, and posted a guard at Elenya's door, pleading concern for her safety. His shrewdness was oddly charming to me, and I found myself respecting the man more and more.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was given a large cushion to sleep on, next to the iron stove in the kitchen. It was warmer than I had slept since I had adopted the wolf form, and I accepted gratefully.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When morning dawned, I found the way to Elenya's room, and the guard admitted me right away. She had just awoken, and was seated in the window, brushing out her long black hair. It fell in rave curtains, and was one of the loveliest things I think I have ever seen. Her eyes were fixed out on the green fields of the tsar's lands, but I do not think she saw them. Pulling her hair back into its braid, she turned to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Friend wolf, you have protected Fyodr for these many days, and myself as well. How can I thank you? Your labors have found me the love of my life, when I had thought that all hope of finding such a one was dead. My father loves me, but cannot leave his realm unsecured, and was prepared to marry me off within a year to anyone with land, so long as he was of good stock. There were none of them whom I cared to converse with, much less marry, and I dreaded the coming of Christmastide when the date of my marriage had been set. But now Christmas will be a joy for me, for Fyodr will inherit his father's realm, and become the heir of my father as well. I had not thought to hope for such happiness, and I thank you greatly for it.” She knelt and embraced me, and I felt a single hot tear fall upon my fur from her eyes.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You need not thank me, tsarevna,” I replied, somewhat ill at ease. “If such a thing has happened, it was fated to be, and not due to any action of mine. I seek only what is fated for me, as do all who walk in the world.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">She only smiled, as if she disbelieved me, but said nothing. She quickly got dressed, in a rich blue gown the tsar had given her, and walked together to meet Fyodr and the tsar.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When the time came to return to Fyodr's father, the tsar accompanied us to the steps of his palace. He turned to Elenya first.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My dear, I have grown quite fond of you during these short hours, and I shall always consider you as a daughter. I know your father, and shall send to him of your happiness, that he may know it from a source he trusts.” He embraced her, and kissed her forehead with a smile.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Fyodr, you must visit Elenya's father very soon to plead for her hand properly. I will smooth the way for you, but the final task is yours, as it right and good. Hurry home to your own father, who will be delighted to see both of you, I am sure.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He turned his eyes to me, and spoke quietly. “And you, wolf, see them home safely, and be very careful. There are strange things afoot in these woods, and my guards return home with stories of an old woman who roams to and fro in a giant mortar, with a skull for a lantern. I do not place much stock in such things, but keep you watch.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With the tsar's warning ringing in my ears, we set off for Fyodr's home, and the garden of eternal summer where the tree with golden apples grew.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There were many ways through the wood to the crossroad where I had found Fyodr so many days before, but only one path from the crossroad to his father's palace. I disliked such narrow choices, but there was nothing for it. We walked through the woods silently, and the two young ones were in high spirits, rejoicing in their love.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally, as we drew near to the place where the roads met, I stopped, and spoke to Fyodr and Elenya. “We are almost back to the crossroads where we will find the path that leads to Fyodr's home. But we are not out of danger yet, for a simple brigand can end your life as surely as a tsar. Fyodr, cover the firebird's cage, and do not let anyone think that it is of more value than any woodsman's pack. Elenya, wrap your braid up around your head and cover it with your kerchief. Try not to let anyone see much of your faces until you are safely within the castle walls. I cannot go through the crossroads with you, for those who dwell in the alehouse would soon question anyone who walked with a wolf. I will circle around and meet you on the path to your father's house. Take some time to eat, you will need the strength for the final leg of the journey, but do not linger for any reason, and come meet me as soon as you can.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">They assured me that they would be careful, and went on the road with great confidence, but my heart was uneasy. There was something unaccounted for, something forgotten.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I quickly traced my way around the crossroads, and settled myself beside a large log near the road to wait. The afternoon sun was warm, and I found myself growing drowsy. I must have drifted off, for when I awoke, it was sunset, and the woods were growing dark. There was no sign of Fyodr and Elenya, and my heart grew cold with fear. I slunk along the road to the crossroads, and saw nothing out of place. The road was empty, and I could hear drunken singing spilling from the alehouse, as the lgiht from its windows flowed out onto the pavement.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Just then, I heard the sounds of conversation behind me, and drew myself behind the large stone in the middle of the crossroad, hoping that I could keep the rock between myself and the passersby.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The two men walked slowly; in fact, one of them seemed to be supporting the other, who was raving as if drunk, but I smelled no alcohol on either one.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I tell you, I saw it!” the staggering man shrieked, waving his arms wildly. “I saw them standing in the woods, not even a mile away! A man, horrible to look at, and him with coals for eyes! And her, not a tooth in her mouth, and both of them talking calmly, just like you and me right now!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“This isn't what I would call talking calmly, Grigori,” the other man muttered, trying to keep his lurching friend on the path.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“And he said to her that she had nothing to offer him, for he already knew the...the ritual, I think, that would open the gate, and she laughed then, and it was a horrible laugh! Like that old goat I've got, Yakov, but if that goat were posessed by a demon of hell! She laughed like that goat!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I listened more carefully. It was still most likely that this Grigori's ravings were the product of strong vodka than of any conversation, but too much of his story was familiar for my comfort. And where were Fyodr and Elenya?</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“She laughs like that goat, and says to him that he'll never get in without her, for she's the only one who can deliver the blood. You hear that? Blood, she says! This is when I started running, you know. You don't stick around when strange witches start babbling about blood.” His words were slurred and came out in a rush, but it was becoming increasingly clear that Grigori had certainly seen something in the woods. I followed carefully, wanting to hear everything that might be said.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“The witch told him that he'd never be able to capture the girl, I don't know what girl she meant, and that she'd get her so that the gate could be opened again. She would get the girl, but she needed an assurance from him that he would not pass through the gate and leave her out in the cold. They argued, and it was horrible...I ran as fast as I could, but I heard them coming after me, and his eyes were like fire...” The rest of Grigori's speak was mere gibbering, and his mind was unraveling.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I hurried to the crossroads; something was wrong. Fyodr and Elenya should have been done with their dinners for hours, but they had not come up the path to his father's house.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I looked in the window of the alehouse. It was crowded, and noisy with the shouting of many drunken men. A table and a few chairs had been overturned and lay broken in the middle of the room, but no one seemed in a hurry to remove the mess.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I looked at the back part of the alehouse, where I knew there were a few rooms for rent. Most were usually used for hiring the services of the women of easy virtue who lurked near the bar, but travelers who had nowhere else to go sometimes used one for a night before moving on to more desirable accommodations. Though a thick curtain had been drawn across the window, I could see a faint light in the last room.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a whispered word, the curtain moved back just enough to allow me a small glimpse into the room without being seen. What I saw chilled me to the bone. Fyodr lay on the floor, his head covered in blood, and his shirt dark with it. He was dead, and by the looks of it, had been so for hours. Aleksandr and Piotr sat on opposite sides of the room, apparently having had some disagreement, and Elenya was curled up on the bed, sobbing into her stained pillow.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I watched, Piotr swallowed the last drops of beer from a bent tankard, and threw it to the floor, narrowly missing Fyodr's body. “Well, brother, we still must come to some agreement here. There are only two prizes; the girl, and the bird. Of course, with the bird comes the inheritance, so it is obviously the more valuable of the two.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Aleksandr's face had grown harder and more lined since I had watched him pace the garden by night. Whatever he had been doing during Fyodr's absence had not been to his liking.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“you know as well as I do that father could change his mind about that tomorrow, and likely will do so. I've been disinherited half a dozen times now, as have you. Do you really think that bird will make a difference?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Piotr chuckled, and looked over at the firebird, which was sitting on a low table, still in its golden cage. “No, of course not. But you do, whether you admit it or not. Look at you now, all flushed and excited: you still believe that if you show up at our father's house, bearing that cage in hand, that he will embrace you and proclaim you his heir before another moment passes.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The older brother did not respond, scowling at the table, but I could see that Piotr's words were true. Aleksandr's eyes were bright and greedy, and the thought of his inheritance brought a flush to his neck and face.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“what of it?” He finally shouted at his younger brother. “What of it, I ask you? You never cared about the realm, you only cared about yourself! What is it to you if the inheritance is mine?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You are welcome to the bird, then,” Piotr said calmly. His eyes strayed toward the grieving girl on the bed, and a flush began to rise to his cheek as well. “I wish a prize of an entirely different nature, as I'm sure you know.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Aleksandr made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “I know all too well that the only thing you value in life is your own pleasure. Then we are agreed: the bird is mine, the girl is yours. When we return and tell father the story, you will then leave the realm with her and never return to plague me again.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Piotr nodded, and opened his mouth to respond, but Elenya rose and spoke. Her voice was quiet, but rough with tears. “And you will do this? You kill my love Fyodr, the man I was to marry, then calmly agree about my fate while his body cools on the floor? No! I will not go with either of you, not for money, nor love, nor any other thing in this world!” She drew a knife from her belt, and made to plunge it into her belly, but Piotr caught her hand quickly and prevented her.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Here, now, none of that! You have no choice in this, I'm afraid. If you will not come with me, I can make other arrangements. I hear some young doxie made a fool of Tsar Smerdya the other day; I'm sure he could find a few uses for you, should I take you to him.” He drew the knife from her hand, and tossed it onto the table, and she collapsed onto the floor in tears again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“you'll come with me and stick to my story, and that's final,” he said, with no trace of feeling in his voice. I wanted to leap through the window and rip his throat out. It was only with the greatest effort of will that I held myself back.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After making sure that there was nothing else the tsarevna could use to take her life, the two brothers fell asleep. Elenya paced the room tirelessly, back and forth, back and forth. When I was sure the brothers would not awaken from their drunken sleep, I tapped lightly on the window. Startled, Elenya looked up; recognizing my grey fur, she dashed over. The window was small, and not big enough for either of us to climb through, so she put her face close and whispered.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Grey wolf, they have killed Fyodr! We stopped here for a meal before meeting you beyond the crossroad, and he found his brothers here. He was still full of joy in our love, and he held no ill will for either. In fact, he rejoiced at meeting them, though I distrusted their dark looks. He told them too much, and was not careful. They brought him back to their room here, and Aleksandr struck him over the head with a chair, and Piotr plunged his dagger into his heart. I tried to scream, but I found Piotr's hand over my mouth, and no-one heard anything. It was too late, and he died without ever rising from the floor. And now they say that Aleksandr will claim the inheritance, and Piotr will take me with him, and I have not even been left any way of joining my love in death.” the story spilled out of her quickly, and it seemed that she was half-mad with grief.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Quiet now, Elenya,” I whispered, trying to calm her. “This is not the end for you, nor even for Fyodr. I will do what I can for both of you, but you must listen and do exactly as I tell you, no matter what happens. Can you do it? You must be very strong.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">She paused for a moment, swallowing her tears, then nodded.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Good. The two brothers will want to get to their father's house as soon as possible that they might go their seperate ways, but it will take time. Before the brothers leave the alehouse, they will need to hide Fyodr's body. Persuade themto bury it in the woods near the crossroads. Once this is done, they will set off for their father's house. Go with them, but refuse to lie with Piotr until you are man and wife. I do not think he will refuse you this, and it will buy you some time. He would rather have you with little fight than rouse himself to take you with force, for he is lazy by nature. And he needs your help to persuade his father that his lies are true. Make sure the marriage happens no sooner than three days hence.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">She nodded, but I saw only despair in her eyes. “Do not give up hope yet, Elenya. I am much older than you, and I have seen many strange things, and you are not yet alone in this world. Wait. Have hope. See what we may do.” I lay my head against her cheek for a moment, then hurried back out into the night. There was much to do.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The brothers buried Fyodr in a shallow grave before dawn, and covered the place with leaves from the forest floor. They hurried back to the alehouse, taking no moment to consider their brother's shameful grave. As soon as they had gone, I made my way to the spot where they had buried him. There was nothing to mark the spot, and he would have been utterly forgotten, lying forever in the cold ground without so much as a coffin.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In a few moments, I had dug up the body. His fine red hair was matted with blood and dirt, and his face was smeared with mud. I noted with a pang of sadness that he had begun to grow a fine red beard: so young, it was still ragged and patchy. I covered the empty grave with the leaves, and carried the body far out into the woods where I cleaned it with water from a stream and laid it out upon a bed of ferns.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Even when the body was cleaned, there was something horrible about the cold dead thing that lay before me. Everything that had animated it, had brought humor to the lips and kindness to the eyes, was gone. Though it was Fyodr, it did not look like him, and I found it horrible.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I left the body, and went deeper into the woods. I drew a quick circle and stepped inside it, casting the necessary charms. After a moment of silence, I began to sing again, a call to creatures that I knew must be in the forest, a summons. When the song ceased, I opened my eyes, and there in the circle stood a hawk, an eagle, and a raven, each looking at me with bright unreadable eyes.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I once knew a raven,” I said, “a creature of the ravens who sometimes took the form of a handsome young man. He and two others, one of the hawk and one of the eagle, knew the secret to restoring a life that had been wrongfully taken. Not far from here lies the body of a young man who was murdered by his brothers. His young bride was stolen, and his inheritance will be lost if he is not restored. If you know the secrets of restoring life, I beg of you, bring him back out of death to claim his life, his love, and his land.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The birds looked at me for a moment, then in a flurry of feathers, flew off, each in a different direction. I waited all day, never moving from the circle. I grew hungry, and my throat burned with thirst, but I held my place. The night fell, and I was surrounded by the cold and dark. But still I did not move. The circle must not be broken, or Fyodr's last hope would be gone. As dawn broke, I heard a great sound of wings, and looked up to see the sky full of birds. The three that I had summoned in the morning dropped to the ground, each accompanied by another of his own kind.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next moment, three comely men stood in the circle. One was tall and dressed in bronze, with hawk wings emblazoned on his helmet. The next was all in rich brown leather, with eagle's wings on his helmet. The final one had a fine black beard, and his helmet bore the sign of the raven. He turned to his companions, and spoke a few words in a tongue I did not know. We looked at each other for a moment, and I knew that they understood who I was. Without a word, I stepped out of the circle and they followed me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We came to Fyodr's body, where it lay cold and pale on the bed of ferns. The three men stooped and examined the body, their hands more delicate than I had expected. After a few minutes, the one in bronze stood and spoke. “His life can be restored.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I bowed my head in acknowledgment of the words. “I thank you for this, but I have a request. Once, long ago, I saw another man who had been raised by you. He lived long enough to rescue me from a terrible fate, but died soon after. This young man's bride waits for him, and I wish to be able to tell her that they will have a long life together.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The one with the eagle wings on his helmet smiled. “My dear wolf, no-one can guarantee a long life in this world of shadows and pain. However, I know of whom you speak. His life had been taken by a powerful wizard, and his body was cut in many pieces. There was little we could do for such a one. But this man was killed wrongfully, by his own brothers, and this is only the first day he has been in death. He will come back from it eagerly, I think. We will do what we can.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With that, he knelt at Fyodr's side, placing his hand over the boy's heart. The man in bronze knelt at Fyodr's head, with his hand on the young man's brow. The dark-haired man with the sign of the raven knelt and clasped fyodr's bare feet with both hands. The three spoke in their strange tongue again, and the first pulled out a small flask from his belt, and poured a few drops of a bright golden liquid between the young man's lips. He whispered into his unhearing ear, and a few moments of silence passed. Then, slowly, like a river thawing in the spring, Fyodr's fingers began to move.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Slowly, oh so slowly, he awoke, blinking eyes that had been closed in death, and moving limbs that had been cold moments before. The three men helped him sit up and take some food. After an hour or so, he was able to stand, and then to walk.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The three men stood to bade us farewell, and Fyodr thanked them with a stammer, having no words suitable for such an occasion. I sent him a short distance away to wait.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“We have done as you asked, wolf,” said the man with the eagle wing helmet. “but such things are not done lightly, and you would do well not to ask again. Men are not meant to live in this world forever, and you cannot right every wrongful death.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I bowed my head, and when I looked up again, they had vanished, save for the one who bore the sign of the raven.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I had not thought to see you again,” he said with a smile, “and certainly not in this form. But I am glad to see that you are well.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“As well as may be,” I replied. “And Tatiana?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A faint cloud passed over his face. “No man lives forever, nor any woman, not in this world. She passed into death many years ago, and I miss her every day.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Could you not call her back then? It is only one life.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He gave me a hard look. “Only one life? Yes. But each life may be such that the earth groans to see it, for good or ill. It is ordered that man should die, and it is good that it is so. At the end, Tatiana was glad to go, for she was tired, and longed for the world that is on the other side of death. You and I will never see it, but it is the true home for men, and they are forever restless until they find it.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I looked over at Fyodr who stood waiting.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes,” Viktor said quietly, “he has now seen that land, and part of him will always mourn the loss of it. This is why we hesitate to bring back any who has once seen that land. But his heart still mourned for his love, and it is better that they should travel this world together a little while. When he comes again to death, he will be at peace. Until then, he will only have a little sadness when he remembers. It is well done, wolf.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With the sound of wings, he was gone, and a flock of ravens flew overhead into the east, disappearing into the light of the rising sun. I called again, and one bird turned back. I gave it quick instructions, and it flew back into the woods, bearing my message.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I joined Fyodr, and as we walked the path that would lead him home to his father's house, I told him all that Elenya had told me, and all that I had seen in the alehouse. He grew hot with anger over his brothers' words.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Do not give in to anger yet, Fyodr,” I cautioned. “You have been given back your life, and you will win your love and your land as well, but you must listen to me, and do as I say.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I will strike down both of my brothers where they stand,” he proclaimed, striking his palm with his fist.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Taking back your inheritance and your bride will be better than striking in vengeance. Take what is yours, let vengeance fall where it will.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He was still angry, but as we walked and I explained my plan, he began to calm, and finally agreed to do as I asked. Though we could easily have come to his father's house that day, we spent that night in the woods, making preperations. The next day, Fyodr would reclaim everything that was his, or die trying.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next morning dawn clear and bright. The nights had gotten colder with the approach of winter, and my coat had grown thicker and shaggier. I wearied of being a wolf, but there was no point in changing forms before Fyodr's work was done. The time for change would come soon enough.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He awoke and after eating a simple meal of apples and cheese, clothed himself in peasant's garb that I had taken from the alehouse. The disguise, combined with his newly grown beard, was certain to fool his father, who still expected to see him as the boy he had been.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The men and women of neighboring villages were milling about the front entrance to the castle, for everyone in the realm had been invited to Piotr's wedding, which had been set for that day. Fyodr bid me farewell, and joined the crowd, soon becoming lost in the mass.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slipped into the castle grounds unnoticed when a guard moved to break up a fight between two men who had jostled each other. I kept to the shadows, and finally found my way to the room where Elenya was staying. When I whispered to her, she opened the door and let me in. I looked around; the room was spare and spartan. Surely Piotr had been in here first to remove anything that she might use to take her life. There was only one small window very high up in the wall, and a single beam of sunlight fell upon the stone floor.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Elenya had been prepared for her wedding by a handmaid that the tsar had given her. Her black hair had been brushed until it gleamed, and it hung down her back, falling to her ankles in ebony waves. Her skin was pale, but flushed with emotion, and her eyes sparkled. Though I could tell that her heart still ached, she was strong, and determined.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“tell me, wolf. You asked me to delay the wedding until today, and I have done so. But Fyodr is not with you, and I marry Piotr within the hour. If this is to be my life, then I beg you, rip my throat out and release me!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I motioned for her to sit down on her bed. “Peace, tsarevna. Your love Fyodr is alive and well, and he waits for you. But all must happen in its own time.” I explained the plan to her, and she seemed to grow years younger as the weight of grief dropped from her heart.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Soon, the maid came to call upon Elenya, for the marriage procession was ready. I bade her farewell, and watched as she left the room. I listened until I was sure that the halls were clear, then made my way back downstairs and out into the garden where the wedding was being held. There was an old priest there in gold robes to perform the ceremony, and Piotr looked around impatiently. At the foot of the steps was spread a huge banquet for the wedding guests, and Aleksandr waited nearby with his finest clothing; he looked ready to take the rule of the land that very day, and I wondered for a moment if, having killed his brother, he would soon find himself willing to kill his own father to secure that inheritance. Little matter: he would have no chance for that now.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The crowd of villagers stood in the garden, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Soon, Elenya was lead out, with a wreath of flowers in her hair, and her hand was joined with Piotr's. The priest, taking little note of Elenya's anxiousness, asked Piotr to repeat the vows that would have bound them as man and wife. He stumbled over the lines, not having learned them in advance, and the gathered company grew restless. From my place under the steps of the castle, I could see that everything was in place.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sang one clear note, and Fyodr stepped forward from the crowd of villagers. Several gasped at the presumption of this peasant to step into the procession, and the tsar's face darkened with anger.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Who is this who dares to interrupt my son's wedding,” he demanded, as several guards converged. With a swift movement, Fyodr tore off the ragged cloak he wore to show the fine tsarevitch's silks that he wore underneath. With another motion, he removed the shapeless cap from his head to show the fine red hair that he had always been known for.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The crowd stared, and the tsar was dumbfounded. I wondered what story the two elder brothers had told to explain Fyodr's absence when they returned home. Elenya's eyes were shining, and I could see that she was ready to fly to her love's arms, but as ordered, she remained in place to let the events take their course.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I do not know what my brothers have told you, o my father,” Fyodr proclaimed in a clear voice that carried over the garden. “But I was the one to procure the firebird for you, and in my quest to find it, I also found the beautiful tsarevna Elenya. She is my love, and my bride; the bird was to be my gift to you. My brothers left me for dead, and stole both from me, and claimed them for their own. I have come to take what is mine.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“What is this,” the tsar asked, with a catch in his voice. “You, my youngest son, returned to me in such a strange manner, and accusing your brothers of such vile deeds! What is this?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“he is jealous of our success, father!” Aleksandr had stormed to the front of the crowd and stood towering over Fyodr. His face was as dark as a thundercloud, and I thought he might strike the younger brother, but both held their ground. “He has no skill nor any idea of the ways of the world, so he waited at the alehouse at the crossroads while we labored to bring back the firebird and the tsarevna.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Piotr had kept hold of Elenya's hand and now gripped it tightly, the point of his dagger touching her back just out of sight of the wedding guests. She did not cry out, but neither could she step forward to defend Fyodr.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“It is the word of brother against brother,” said the tsar heavily. “It grieves my old<span style=""> </span>heart to see my sons turn on each other so.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Then you might have thought of that before you encouraged us to fight one another for the inheritance you should have given freely,” barked Piotr, keeping his grip on Elenya. “You breed discord with every breath, you old fool, then chide us with tears when it arrives. Make your choice and have done with it!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“But how am I to know whose story is true,” lamented the tsar.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I know the truth of the matter.” A quiet voice commanded the attention of all present, and all eyes were drawn to the figure who now stood at the top of the steps, a grey wolf at his side and a raven perched on his shoulder.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“And who might this be, who claims such an audacious thing,” demanded Aleksandr.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I am the tsar of the castle where the firebird made his home,” came the reply quietly, “and I received word that the young tsarevitch's story might be doubted. I have come to tell you of the taking of the firebird.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The father of the three quarelling young men brightened at this, and stood to welcome his unexpected royal guest. I quietly thanked the raven for delivering my message, and it flew away to join its fellows again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My name is Tsar Nestor, and I live several days' journey from here, in a castle with a garden even more splendid than this. For many years, the firebird has been the joy of my heart. It comes and goes as it pleases, and its beauty delighted me. But I am an old man with no children, and I began to worry about who would take care of the bird when I passed from this world. One day, as I was pondering this, I heard the trumpets blaring. Rushing down into the garden, I saw the guards holding this young man, with hair almost as bright as my beloved bird's. He had taken the bird, but not content with that, had reached out for the golden cage that hung nearby, and it was this that had alerted the castle to his presence. I admired his spirit, and would have been happy to send the bird with him, had he asked. But I do not take kindly to thieves, and asked him to redeem himself in my eyes by fetching me something that I had long wanted. He was gone for many days, and when he returned he was accompanied by the beautiful tsarevna Elenya, whose beauty is known across many lands. She was much taken with him, and they left to return to you. Fyodr was very eager to receive your blessing on his upcoming marriage, and he took the firebird to fulfill your own desire. What happened between my land and yours, I do not know, but your elder sons have lied to you, good tsar, for neither of them won the bird nor the lady.” With that, he sat down and was silent, though he watched the two older brothers with an eager eye.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">During the story, aleksandr had gone very pale, and Piotr had let his knife drop to the grass. Both glanced toward the gates, as if they hoped to escape, but each one was guarded, and they were trapped. No longer feeling the touch of the blade in her back, Elenya ran across the grass to Fyodr and threw herself into his arms.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tsar stood, and he seemed older than ever, weighted down with the knowledge of the nature that he had instilled in his elder sons.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My sons, I beg your forgiveness. I am a fool, and there is no time to set things right now, for I am an old fool. I have been greedy and fickle, and am not fit to raise sons to be tsars. But now I will hold to my word, at the end. Fyodr, you have done everything I asked, and more. The inheritance is yours, as I promised. I wish you happiness in your marriage, and God grant you many years.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He turned to the faithless older brothers. “Aleksandr, I have perhaps wronged you the most, for the inheritance should go to the eldest by rights. But that does not excuse your actions. You have attacked your brother, stolen what he won, and lied about it. You will never inherit any of my lands, but I leave you a place in this house, as long as you want it. Fyodr may never turn you out of this place.” Fyodr nodded in agreement, though he did not seem pleased to do so.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Piotr, you never had Aleksandr's desire to rule, nor any desire that I could see, save the desire to do as you wished. But even so, I did nothing to rid you of your indolence, as a father should have done. I have nothing to leave you, save what was given to Aleksandr: a place in this household for as long as you have need of it.” Again, Fyodr nodded, though his expression was grim.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then with a groan that seemed to come from his very soul, the tsar clutched his heart and fell over. With a cry, Fyodr ran to his father, but the old man was dead before he reached him. A wail went up from the young man, and a few tears fell from Elenya's eyes. In the commotion, Piotr and Aleksandr disappeared, and I never heard tell of them in that land again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After a few minutes, Fyodr wearily pulled himself off his father's body, and looked out at the crowd. “We were all gathered here for a wedding, and a wedding there shall be, but let me first bury my father. Then all grief shall be put to rest, and we will begin anew.” the people murmured in assent.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The items for burial were quickly gathered, and Elenya herself laid out the old man in his finest robes. His body was borne out to the graveyard by five young men from the village and Fyodr. A hole was dug amongst the graves of the tsars ancestors, and he was lowered into the ground with honor and respect. The priest conducted the ceremony with solemnity, fitting for the occasion; when all was done, Fyodr sent the women back to the castle to prepare for the wedding, and the men quickly filled in the grave and strew the bare earth with seeds that the grave might grow green with grass when spring came.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As dusk fell, the men returned to the castle garden. The women had lit lamps and candles and hung them from every tree, gate, and even from the walls of the garden itself. As always, the garden held the warm air of summer, and all of the flowers were in bloom, scenting the air with their fragrance. All of the women wore flowers in their hair, and even more blossoms had been added to Elenya's long tresses, until she looked like a garden herself.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fyodr joined her there, and with the people gathered around, were married in the sight of their people and their God. There was much feasting then, and dancing, but I slipped away. This was their celebration, not mine.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Early the next morning, Fyodr walked through the garden as he had so many times in the past. He knew each tree, flower, and plant, and the firebird perched in the top of the tree with the golden apples, shining like a star. I sat by the gate, watching as I had so many times. He saw me there, and we stood looking at each other for a long moment. Then Elenya came down the steps into the garden, and Fyodr's eyes turned to her, soft with love. She kissed him, then walked to the gate.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Putting her hand through the bars and resting it on my head, she smiled. “We can never thank you, grey wolf, for all you have done. But we wish you to take this to remember us by.” She reached into a pocket and drew out one of the golden apples. It shone so brightly that I blinked in its light.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I left Fyodr's land, I shed the wolf form, and went forward into the land in my true form. The sun was rising, and in the distance, I heard the people singing as they went about their work.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"> </p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was several weeks' journey to the Gate to the Summer Realm, and it was difficult going when the first snow of the winter fell. But I reached the tree near the gate, and checking to see that the silver bridle was still there, hid the golden apple with it, and concealed the place again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"> </p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I walked through the snows to the Gate. It looked as it always had: cold stone with strange designs, older than the land around it, perhaps older than time itself. I remembered the scent of summer that had come from Fyodr's garden, the unmistakeable scent that still clung to the apple they had given me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But there was no scent from this Gate, no warmth of summer sun, no shimmering curtains of light hanging over gardens of honeysuckle.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And for the first time since I had been exiled, I fell to my knees and wept.</span></p> </div>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-21791580156623466862010-11-11T12:48:00.000-08:002010-11-11T12:51:23.366-08:00Marya Morevna<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> 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font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I reached the steppes once again, I knew that I could no longer avoid the world of men, and I no longer cared to try. If I must interact with them, it would be on my own terms.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I came to the edge of a great forest, I paced off a plot of land, and began to sing, weaving my song with the earth, the trees, and the forces of the world. I walked for a full day, and as the sun sank, I returned to where I had begun. In my steps had sprung up a high stone wall with thick battlements and a great iron gate.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slept within the gates that night; I had poured all of my energy into the creation of the wall, and it would be several days before my abilities would return to their full strength.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I dreamed that night, for the first time in a long time. I was back in the wood, and it was tangled and dark. I found myself pushing through dead vines, and ankle-deep in fallen and rotting leaves. And always behind me, the sound of horse's hooves, always coming toward me, but never quite arriving. I ran as fast as I could, but the vines caught my hands and feet, and the branches struck against my body, slowing me down. The hoofbeats were louder now, almost upon me. I looked behind me, and saw eyes of fire in the dark space between two trees.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I awoke at the sight, and I thought I could still hear the pounding of hooves. But dawn was breaking and the only thing I could be certain I heard was the song of the early-rising birds.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Slowly, I raised my palace out of the earth. It was exhausting work, but it must be done if I were to take my rightful place in the world of men. I would be no Tsar, ordering men into war and staging contests to give away the hand of his daughter. I would be no high-bred Tsarina, dancing until my feet ached to uphold my husband's reputation, with closets of silks never worn and furs never touched. No, men needed a stronger, more noble hand to rule them, and mine would be that hand.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It is painful to me now to remember that time. My heart was full of anger and my head swelled with pride. But it necessary to understand everything that came after, so I must face my shame and tell you of the heights of my pride.</span></p> <p class="Textbody"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Gradually, men began to come to my palace to see this wondrous building that had suddenly arisen in the wilderness, and to see the face of the princess who ruled there. Stories about her beauty and power spread far and wide, which I encouraged. When a band of peasant men came to investigate, I invited them to stable their horses and join my table at a feast. Sometimes a lone soldier would find his way to my gate after returning from some war, and I would offer him a fine meal and a place to sleep. Certain charms were woven in the stone of the palace, and few who stayed for a meal ever wished to leave again, and after a man had slept under the roof of my palace, he would forever be loyal to me. In time, my army grew, and a small town sprung up at the foot of my palace wall. The wide plains were good for hunting, and there was farmland for any who wished to live that life. As my raiding parties went out, my land increased, until I could not see the end of my realm even when I looked out from the highest tower.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And I could not sleep. Every night in my dreams, I heard the pounding hooves of Koschei's night-black horse. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek, and his low laughter was in my ears when I jolted awake. I began to walk the walls of my palace at night, looking out to the plains. I knew he must be near, but I never caught a glimpse of him or his horse.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After several sleepless months, I finally determined to draw Koschei out. After making my preperations, I sent word to my servants that I was going to the woods for several days, and I was not to be disturbed for any reason. I rode out from the palace with nothing but my staff and a small pouch of herbs; at my side hung a length of silver chain.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I journeyed into the heart of the forest, and found a small clearing. Working quickly, I drew out a handful of salt from my pouch and quickly draw a circle around myself, whispering charms as I did so. When the circle closed, there was a brief green flash, and the circle glowed slightly. Then, knowing I was safe as long as I did not set foot outside the circle, I sat down and wrapped my cloak around myself to wait. As night fell, I listened for the familiar sound of hooves, and it was not dark long before I heard them. I could hear the hard iron shoes crushing the undergrowth of the forest, and the clanking of the bit.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I stood in the middle of the circle, my staff at ready. I had ordered many books brought to my palace from distant lands, and learned many things since I had last met Koschei. I was ready.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He appeared in the clearing suddenly, clothed all in black furs and ragged leather. He seemed to have aged since last I saw him. He appeared thinner, more withered, more wrinkled, as if the loss of his soul had made him hollow and he had begun to cave in. Perhaps that is exactly what had happened; I cannot say.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">You are a long way from home, Vasilissa,” he rasped.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I see you have learned my name, Koschei,” I replied calmly.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Stories reach me from time to time. Yours was more interesting than most.” His horse snorted, and stamped the ground. “You needn’t have bothered with the salt circle, you know. I have little interest in you; you are only an exiled girl, no lost Hyperborean princess.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then why have you stalked my castle walls these last months? Why haunted my dreams?” I demanded.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He laughed. “Oh, you think yourself, so important, Vasilissa! I have no need to tell you my reasons.” He turned to leave the clearing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">No, you do not. And it matters not to me, in the end.” I sang a quick sharp high note, and the chains of silver dropped from the trees where I had concealed them, and wrapped themselves around Koschei’s wrists and ankles. He made to laugh again brush away the small links, but blanched when the metal touched his skin and began to burn. I could see the skin turning red and blistered under the chains. With another note, the chains drew taut and Koschei toppled from his horse.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">You forget, Koschei. Silver may be weak, but it is pure, and no soulless thing like you can touch purity.” I stepped out of the circle, and quickly stuffed a rag into Koschei’s mouth, both to prevent him speaking any charms that I could not ward against, and to stifle the flow of curses that streamed from him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The night-black horse ran as I raised a hand to his bridle, and I had no desire to chase after it. I loaded Koschei onto my own horse, and took him back to the castle under the cover of the waning darkness. By dawn, he was chained in the top of the tallest tower of the palace. Silver were his chains, and silver ornamented the door and walls of the room.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I stood before him one final time, as dawn broke through the window. “I have had my fill of you, Koschei. You may stay chained here until the world ends and the very earth itself breaks apart. I have rid the world of you.” His eyes blazed with fire, but he was powerless.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I left him there, hanging in his silver chains, and closed the door, locking it sharply.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">____________________________________</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">For many years, my power grew. My army grew, until there were few who could stand against them. The door at the top of the stairs in the tallest tower grew dusty from disuse, and spiderwebs could often be seen at the corners. My dreams ceased, and I found sleep easily. The town grew rich and prosperous; farmers sold their crops, and hunters traded furs with merchants who passed on their way to the larger cities.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The people, having no name for me, began to call me Marya Morevna, a name from some long-forgotten tale. I did not care what they called me, so long as they were easily ruled. I rarely left the palace, except to lead the army into battle. I had had special armor made for me. Not silver or steel nor any kind of metal, it was a leather corset, into which I had sewn my own charms and sung my own protection. I covered my arms in wide rings of silver to deflect arrows, and a gold helmet crowned my head. I have heard that I was terrible to look on in the midst of battle: a whirling madwoman, striking out with staff and song, bringing death to any near her, with blond hair flying like a whirlwind. My men knew that I would always be with them in battle, and were happy to march out in any battle with their strange warrior queen.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">One day, we went out to do battle with a neighboring tsar, who had been foolish enough to have his men conduct raiding parties into my lands. Several acres had been burned, and one peasant had lost his livestock, another had had an arm severed by a blow from a sword. I could not let such brazenness go unanswered, so my forces were called to arms, and I rode out at the head of the crowd.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We made camp two days’ march from the palace. Our tents stood tall, flags rippling in the breeze. My tent was a large one, made of red and blue cloth. There were skins on the floor, and servants to fetch whatever might be required. My men rested for a day, then on the fourth day, we marched against the offending tsar, and destroyed his forces. Once word of this battle spread, I knew, others would not dare to impose on my lands or my people. The victory must be decisive.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A few hours after the battle was over, just after I had changed clothes and finished washing the blood out of my battle robes, a servant entered the tent, and informed me that there was a young man outside who wished to speak with me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sent my robes out with a servant to be hung to dry outside, and summoned the stranger in. When he entered, ducking through the curtains, he gaped at the sight of the tent. He was more than a little startled by me as well, I believe.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What is it that you wish of me?” I asked him. He was perhaps thirty, with a rough shock of dark brown hair, and an open face, not unpleasant.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My name is Ivan Petrovka. I was passing through the area, in search of some adventure. You see, my three sisters were married off recently, and I have no-one else to look after, so I thought to see what the world had to offer. When I came this way, I found fields strewn with dead men, and one man barely clinging to life. When I asked him what had happened, he only replied, ‘Marya Morevna has destroyed us!’ Then he fell back and died, for his wounds were great. I thought that I should like to see the woman who could be responsible for such a great battle.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Well, now you have seen her,” I replied. “And what think you of her?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I do not believe that an outsider can judge a general: only a soldier knows what it like to fight under his leadership.” Ivan spoke quietly, but clearly, and his answer surprised me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That is an interesting answer, Ivan Petrovka. I should like to see how you fight, but alas, all of my current enemies are dead. Would you be willing to battle my champion in the field tomorrow morning?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He nodded. “I would be happy to, my lady. I greatly hope that my strength of arm may be proved to your liking.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I summoned the servant again. “See that young Ivan here is given room and board with the men. Then tell the armsmaster to set up the battle ring, and prepare sword and shield for two men. Let one of my men volunteer to be my champion in the ring. We shall see what your strength is, young Ivan. And now, goodnight to you.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ivan bowed briefly, and followed the servant out of the room. I watched him go, wondering what sort of soldier he might prove to be.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">________________</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next morning dawned cool and clear. Dawn colored the sky gradually, and I stood outside my tent, watching the stars fade out one by one. Soon, the entire sky was a solid blue, and the men were waiting for the mock battle. I took my seat by the edge of the ring to judge the match. The one who had been selected as my champion was a soldier I knew well, by the name of Dmitri. He was well-muscled and strong, and his arms were marked with the scars of battle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Both men were stripped to the waist, and bore wooden swords and shields. Ivan was wiry, and smaller than Dmitri, but he seemed calm and quick on his feet. I was eager to see how he might handle this challenge.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Begin!” I shouted, and a great cheer went up as Dmitri swung his sword in a great arc and crashed it against Ivan’s shield, sending him back a pace. They circled each other, Dmitri snarling and baring his teeth, and Ivan simply watching calmly. Dmitri struck a few more times, and Ivan blocked each one easily. Then Dmitri made to charge him again, and almost faster than the eye could see, Ivan struck, doubling his opponent over. Quickly, he turned and gave another blow across Dmitri’s back before he could get away. Finally, Dmitri raised his shield and blocked the next strike, giving himself enough time to recover his breath. When he raised his face again, it was flushed and red, and I could see an anger in his expression that had not been there before. He watched Ivan for a moment, then lunged with the sword, attempting to impale the young warrior. Ivan dodged the blow nimbly, and swung his sword in a wide arc, striking Dmitri across the back once again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The fight continued in this manner for some time, and I could see the bruises beginning to form on Dmitri’s back and arms. He had struck Ivan a few times, but it was clear who was winning. But both men were now tired, and I was watching to see who would make the first mistake.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ivan was tiring, and began to let his shield arm drop. Dmitri noticed as well, and in a flash had struck the edge of the shield, ripping it from Ivan’s hand and sending it flying into the watching crowd. Ivan grimaced; the fingers that gripped the handle of the shield had been hurt by the blow.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The two men circled each other again, Dmitri grinning and poking at Ivan with the tip of his sword, Ivan dancing just out of reach. Finally, the larger man lunged forward again, hoping to catch Ivan on the tip of the wooden blade.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Rather than parrying or turning away, Ivan stepped forward past the blade and grabbed Dmitri’s fist. Giving him a hard yank, he brought his own sword down on Dmitri’s head, loud enough that the entire audience could hear the crack. Dmitri crumpled into a heap on the grass, and the battle was over.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A thunderous applause washed over the battle ring, and the armsmaster quickly entered the ring to tend to Dmitri. After assuring us that he would recover, the armsmaster proclaimed Ivan the winner of the bout. The men swept him away for a drink and a meal, and I watched them go.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ivan was smart and quick, that much was clear, and I had need of men like that. But where had he come from? What did he want? These questions nagged at me through the day, and finally, when the day began to cool and the sun dipped toward the horizon, I summoned Ivan to my tent again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He entered, and stood in silence before me. His face had a few bruises, but otherwise he appeared to be untouched and in good spirits.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sit down, Ivan,” I said, gesturing to a chair that stood on the far end of the room from mine. “You did well in the challenge I set, and I am impressed by the intelligence you showed on the field.” I poured a cup of strong beer, and handed it to him. He drank it eagerly.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Thank you, my lady. It was an honor to fight such a man, and I am grateful that you approved of my showing.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I watched him for a long moment. Though he was obviously tired, he kept his composure, and did everything with precision and attention.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I may have use for a man like you, Ivan,” I remarked. “But I still know nothing of where you come from, or what you are doing here, in the midst of this battlefield. It is early in the evening, we have time for stories. I think it is time I heard yours.” I beckoned the servant to set a meal in front of Ivan that he might eat while he spoke.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It is as I told you, my lady. I am the brother of three sisters, all of age to be married. Our other died when the youngest was born, and our father died as she came of age. He called me in to see him as he lay dying, and bid me not delay in arranging for their marriages, for it was time they set up house for themselves.” He paused to take a few bites of food.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A few days after our father was laid to rest, we were all four walking in our gardens together, when we heard a great noise. Coming up from the sea was an army, carrying a large banner in the shape of a hawk. Fearing some violence, I bid my sisters to hurry inside, lest they be carried away. We barred the door behind us, and soon there was a knock. When I asked who knocked, a strong voice replied, ‘I am the lord of many lands far away, and I wish to marry your eldest sister, for tales have spread of her great beauty.’ I opened the door, and there stood a young man about my own age, with his army behind him. He was dressed all in shining bronze, and his helmet bore the emblem of hawk wings. I asked my eldest sister, Irina, if she would accept the man’s suit, and she was more than willing. So we joyfully celebrated her wedding, and sent her off with her new husband.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He paused to finish the meal, and take a long draught of wine. “A year to the day since Irina’s husband came to us, the three of us who were left were walking in the garden again. And again, we saw a great army come up from the beach, and they carried a great banner in the shape of an eagle. I bid my sisters hurry inside, lest this prove to be an invasion and they be carried away. No sooner had we barred the door than I heard a great knocking. When I asked who was at the door and what their purpose was, a clear voice answered me. ‘I am the lord of many lands far away, and I wish to marry your second sister, for word of her wisdom has spread far and wide.’ I opened the door, and there stood a man of my own age, with hair the color of honey, and armour of rich brown leather. His helmet bore the emblem of an eagle’s wings. I asked Anastasia if she would have him, and she happily accepted. So again, we celebrated a wedding, and my youngest sister and I bid our farewells to Anastasia and her new husband.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He looked up for a moment to judge my reaction to his story, and I motioned for him to continue. “The same thing happened a year later. Tatiana and I were walking in the garden, when I saw a third army come up from the beach, and they bore the banner of a large crow. Fearing invasion yet again, Tatiana and I ran inside, bolting the door. Soon there came a knock on the door, and when I asked who was at the door, a young man answered. ‘I am the lord of many lands far away, and I wish to marry your youngest sister, for word of her cheerful spirit has reached far and wide.’ I opened the door, and there stood a man with a fine black beard, armored in ebony, and bearing the wing of the crow on his helmet. I asked Tatiana if she would have such a husband, and she was more than happy to go with him. So I held the third wedding, and sent the two away happy. But then I was alone in my father’s house, and longed to win glory for my name, so I left my father’s house in charge of the servants, and went out into the world to seek my fortune. Three days out from his house, I found the battlefield, and the rest you know as well as I.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">I studied him for a while, wondering about the story. It was unusual, to be sure, but no more so than the things that had happened to me since I left my realm. And he seemed to have nothing false about him. In the end, I decided to believe him, and smiled. “Your sisters must be fortunate, Ivan, to have married so well. It is good that they are taken care of, because you may not return to your father’s house for some time. I would like you to come and lead my army. You have the mind for it, you are a good fighter, and I believe that you can make my men put their trust in you as they have in me. There are times when it would be advantageous to have two forces, and I would need a trusted commander in such times. What say you? Can you leave your house in the servants’ hands for a while longer, and come with me?”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">He stood solemnly, and bowed. “My lady, it would be a very great honor.”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">________________</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">Our return to the palace was a joyful one: the soldiers had divided up the spoils between themselves, leaving enough to give those who had been damaged by the raid enough to cover their losses. The soldiers’ sweethearts and wives ran out to greet them at the edge of the town, and children ran loose in the streets, celebrating and having a grand time.</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">Ivan rode behind my horse, and we proceded straight up into the palace walls, leaving the bustle of the town behind. When we dismounted, my groom was on hand to lead the horses into the stable, and we quickly went up the stone steps and into the palace itself.</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">Ivan looked a bit awed by the interior of the palace, and it shouldn’t have been surprising. The first room was a large entrance hall, paved with blue stone and built in marble. The walls were covered in fine sill tapestries in blue and gold, and at the far end was my own coat of arms, set into the wall in fine stones and gems. It showed a circle of gold, filled in with green stones. Around it was a field of blue lapis lazuli, and worked in gold and silver on the device was a phrase in Hyperborean script, reading “He who challenges me shall not stand, though the world be with him.” It was an old saying, from one of our long-forgotten wars, fought long before men ever came to our realm.</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">I lead Ivan through the palace to the living quarters, pointing out rooms of interest along the way. Finally, I opened a heavy wooden door, and motioned for him to enter. The room was not as large as some of the others in the palace, but Ivan did not seem the type to welcome empty space. It was roomy enough for one man, but small enough to feel comfortable on cold winter nights when the wind howled at the windows and whistled in the cracks. A fire roared in a stone fireplace against the outer wall, and there were fine furs on the floor to keep the chill away. A door led to a second room, in which there was a bed with piles of woven cloths on it.</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">He examined the room, nodding slightly as if to indicate that it was acceptable. I made to leave, but before closing the door behind me, I thought of something. “Ivan, one thing you must remember while you are here.” He turned and looked quizzically at me. “'There are strange things in this palace, and some of them could prove...dangerous. I will show you as much as I can soon, but in the meantime, I will send my servants for you or come for you myself. Do not go exploring on your own, lest you come to regret it.”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and I knew that asking such a thing of a restless soul like his was asking much, but I couldn't risk him finding the room in the tallest tower. Not yet.</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">Finally he nodded, and I smiled as I closed the door. I made my way to my own rooms, and as I passed the door to the tower, I thought I heard a sound, a very small sound, like clanking metal. I paused on the steps, listening intently, but it had ceased, and there was nothing but silence.</p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;">I tried to put the moment from my mind, but I had difficulty falling asleep that night.</p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">Morning dawn cold and cloudy, and I had no desire to leave the palace, or indeed, the warmth of my own room. Instead of going out to the courtyard to practice my battle skills, I called for the armsmaster and my teacher to come into the palace instead. In a short while, I was practicing my staff skills; so intent was I on the work, that I did not hear Ivan come in. I brought the staff down in a sweeping arc, and was startled to find it met by the flat of a blade. I looked up, and Ivan was smiling as he resheathed his sword. “My apologies, my lady, but you were fighting with such a good spirit that I felt I simply had to join in.”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"> </p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">“Oh? And you thought to presume enough to draw your weapon in my hall, when uninvited and indeed, unnoticed?”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;">He realized then the error, and I saw the blood rush away from his face for a moment. He held his composure, and bowed. “My deepest apologies, I had not stopped to think of any such thing. It shall not happen again.”</p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I smiled then, and pulled a stray strand of hair back into my braid. “come with me, Ivan, I have another test for you.” We went into a room filled with maps, maps from all over the known world. Spread out on the table were maps of my own lands, along with those of the lands that lay near mine. “I would like to see what you make of this, Ivan. My neighbor to the east is a foolish tsar who does whatever his favored adviser of the moment tells him to do. He has never threatened full war on my land, but has been known to send small raiding parties when his advisers tell him I am not looking. He is easily frightened, however, and the mere sight of a marching army sends him scurrying for messengers of parley and truce. On the north is a powerful lord who is content with his own lands, and will never touch mine. However, he cannot be persuaded to enter into an alliance for mutual defense. To the west, as you know, is the tsar who likes to send raiding parties into my lands, and disturb my people and take their livestock. But I do not think I will have to worry about him again, at least, not very soon.” I continued, showing him the lands around my realm,and marking all of the resources likely to be the target of an attack, along with the numbers of my men, where they were stationed, and how quickly they could march. Once I had explained it all to him, I began to pose tactical questions and situations. To each one, he responded as I would, and sometimes invented his own creative solution. I began to feel glad; here was a man with whom I could leave my realm when I went to battle. I could even entrust the battle to him at times, and stay in the city when necessary. Finally, I rolled up the maps and stored them away.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Thank you for your time, Ivan. You have given many good answers.” I closed the doors of my cabinet, and turned back to him. “I have made a decision. You are to become the head of my army, in my stead. I shall still lead them into battle when I choose, but there will be many times when I will be needed elsehwere. And in those times I shall rely on your judgement.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He nodded slightly, back straight in formal attention. There seemed to be a light in his eyes that I had not noticed there before.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“In three days' time, I have need to go to a far country to discuss the terms of an alliance. I shall take a small company with me, but the rest of the army shall stay here. I will need you to be here to deal with any arguments that may arise, and to see that the men and horses are all properly fed and cared for. You will oversee the distribution of rations, the setting of a guard, and all things that ensure the safety of this city.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next three days were busy: I took Ivan all over the city, showing him the limits of the town, explaining the specifics of the marketplace, and introducing him to the heads of the various guilds. There was much to learn, but he absorbed it quickly, and those who met him were much drawn to him, more than they ever had to me. He was quick to smile, and quick to draw laughter from others.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The day before I left, I spent at the palace itself, showing Ivan the household, and ensuring that things would be running smoothly, no matter how long I was gone. I showed him the gardens, the livestock pens, the butcher, the cook, the kitchens, and the armory. Finally, as the sun was setting, we arrived at the foot of the steps up to the tallest tower.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“There is one final thing I must ask of you, Ivan,” I said, standing in front of the stairs.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Yes, my lady?” he asked politely, but with a hint of curiousity.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“No matter what, do not go into this tower. There are things here that must never be seen, and if they are let loose, the entire city will perish for it. Do you understand me?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">he nodded, but I could see that his eyes were drawn to the wooden door at the top of the steps. Again I thought I heard the sound of chains scraping over the floor, but Ivan seemed to have heard nothing, and so I said nothing of it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Do not misunderstand me, Ivan Petrovka,” I said. “i have seen things that you cannot imagine, and you must trust me, even beyond your curiosity. Serve me well, and someday you may know all of my secrets. But not today. Now go, sleep well, and prepare for tomorrow's duties.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">His eyes were drawn back to me, and again I saw the light in them. All at once, I understood, and felt a small wave of revulsion. Keeping my face unmoved, I bid him goodnight, and retired to my quarters. Once inside my own rooms, I locked the door, and began to pace the room.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This simply would not do, but there was no way I could find someone else to manage my affairs during my absence. Ivan was intelligence and judicious, and completely smitten with me. I did not think I had done anything to encourage such feelings, but even now I understand so little of the hearts of men.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I paced the floor. I tried to see myself as the young and curious Ivan would see me. My face was young; even now I scare appear more than four decades, by human reckoning, and I appeared no more than three at that time. My hair was long and wheat colored, drawn back into a thick braid that shone in the light. I stood tall and slender, and moved with the grace of my people. My robe was a simple rich sienna color, bound at the waist by my customary leather corset. A simple attire, I thought, but perhaps it was considered becoming.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After a moment in front of the mirror, I turned away. It did not matter. Let him think what he liked, I would give no return of feeling. I could not imagine feeling anything towards a human, save perhaps a well-earned respect for certain skills.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slept fitfully that night. The sound of chains woke me when I thought to drift off, and my dreams all ended in eyes of flame rushing toward me out of the blackness.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shortly after dawn, I walked down the steps of the palace to my horse, which had been groomed in preparation for the trip. Ivan stood beside the groom, waiting my departure. I greeted both of them, and quickly swung myself atop the horse. I checked to make sure that my staff was secure and that my pack had been properly attached to the saddle, then turned back to Ivan.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I can give you no further words, and you know your duties. I will return in several weeks, and I expect to find everything running smoothly when I do.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He bowed. “Farewell, my lady, and may you have success on your journey.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">With a quick kick, my horse started toward the gate, and I rode out into the town.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was a fine morning for riding: the air was crisp and clean, and I could smell the faintest hint of apples from the cider press that had been set up near the orchard. I was tempted to stop and ask for a cup of the fresh-pressed drink, but decided to keep on my way.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I slept beside the road that night, in the middle of a salt circle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next two days passed in much the same manner, until the sun set on the third day. I was preparing to sleep, and had begun to pour salt on the ground when I heard a sound that struck a chill into my bones.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Clank. Clank. Clank-clank. Scrape.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I knew the sound at once: the iron of a horse's bit.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I rushed to fill in the salt circle, but it was too late. The handful of salt was struck from my hand by a fist gloved in iron, and I was thrown to the ground roughly.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I scrambled to my feet, I saw Koschei astride his horse, hair like fire in the dusk. The intervening years of captivity had not withered him as I had hoped; in fact, he seemed more terrible than ever.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Foolish feygirl,” he spat. “did you think that you could hold me forever? Not when you fill your home with such weaklings. It was but a moment's work once the door was opened.” His eyes burned like candles in the growing dark.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“And you think it a mark of your great power, or your exceptional intelligence, to have deceived a simple man into freeing you?” I laughed without mirth. “Oh, to be as great a sorceror as you, Koschei!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He struck me across the face with a gloved hand, and I tasted blood. “enough of this! I am free again, and you shall not escape me.” He reached down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, drawing me up to my feet. “With the magic I can work on you, the Summer Realm will be mine at last.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I had no time to consider his words, for a great blackness came crashing down upon me, and I knew no more.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I came to myself again, I was curled on a cold stone floor. It was dark, and I could see only a thin line of light that came from under a door that seemed to be set many feet up in a wall.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sat up, and nearly cried out with the pain in my ribs. I ran my hands along my sides, and discovered that my corset, with all its charms and defenses, had been taken, and my bones seemed bruised, perhaps even broken. I continued taking stock of my injuries. My arms seemed bruised, but not injured, as were my legs. I ran a hand over my hand, and discovered many scrapes and tender places, and when I touched a painful place on my head, my fingers came away wet.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I knew nothing of the ride from the clearing in the woods to this place, and could not puzzle out where I was, save that it was likely to be a dwelling of Koschei's, and therefore, nowhere that I wanted to be.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Struggling to get to my feet, I winced when I tried to step forward. My left ankle, while showing no signs of being broken, did seem to be badly sprained, and walking was more difficult than I had hoped. I limped toward the light, hoping to find a way to at least see outside, even if I could not escape in my current condition.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I stumbled across the bottom step of a staircase, and nearly fell. I looked up, and realized that the steps must run along the wall until they reached the door. I paused for a moment, listening to see if I could hear any sign of a guard, or voices outside the door, but all was silent.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I inched my way up the steps on my hands and knees, trying not to put any weight on the injured ankle.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I neared the door, I pulled myself onto my feet; even injured, I could move more quietly on my toes than on my knees. The light from the door was just above my head; a few more feet, and I would be at the door.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then, not three inches from my face, two fires flamed like coals suddenly brought back to life, and Koschei stared at me from where he sat on the stairs in the darkness.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I cried out, and stumbled backwards down the stairs, trying to regain my footing. I heard his rasping laugh echo off the walls. “That always was a fault with our people, wasn't it? They never could see much in the darkness, always liked to have light around. Even the nights were too bright, with those garish colors in the sky.” he got to his feet, and towered over me, as I clung to the stone steps. “But you learn things in exile, if you wish. Like how to sit in darkness for days, months, years if need be. To call on powers that want nothing more than to rip you apart where you stand, and bid them to do your will. This power was what I offered you, and you cast it away. Do as you will there, it is nothing to me.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Then what is it you want with me,” I asked through gritted teeth, my ankle feelign as though it would ignite with the pain.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That rasping laugh again. “I thought perhaps you had pieced it together by now.” He stood, and the red light from his eyes made a dim circle on the stairs. “There are certain spells I know that, with the help of others, will open the doors of Hyperborea to me. Your blood will open the gate.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My heart seemed to stop at his words. I knew of no such spells, but I had not learned nearly so much sorcery as he, and mine was of a decidedly different sort.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Do not fret, feygirl. You will not be alone in death long, for the rest of your people will soon follow you.” He turned and began to climb the stair.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“They were once your people too, Koschei,” I said, perhaps more desperately than I meant to.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He laughed loudly at that; no mirthless rasping chuckle, but a ringing laugh that bounced off the stones. It was so awful that I covered my ears to block it out.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My people? My people? They were never MY people, or at least, I was never truly one of them. That is one of the many lessons that banishment has taught me, feygirl. They could shape the world with their very words, but will they do it? No! They prance about in their gardens, and lounge under the light of the night sky. Every step could echo like thunder, but they squander them in dancing. Every gesture could bestow life or summon death, but they blithely pluck fruit as if it were not so. No! I was never one of them!”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He opened the door, and the room flooded with light, blinding me for a moment. I blinked, and heard the door slam shut with a boom, leaving me in darkness, doubly blinded.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I do not know how long I lay on the stairs, heart pounding, sunk in despair. Even the moment before the Lawkeepers, when my exile had been pronounced, had brought me so low. I felt as though I would seep through the stone and into the ground.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The silence was pervasive; after a while, I began to imagine that I heard sounds, but nothing was ever real.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My race does not die easily, but die we can. I had been told tales about the olden times, before man came, when we warred against the creatures of earth and stone that had been raised against us. Many of the great warriors, it was said, had been injured. Their life slowly drained away, and none of the healers could close the wounds made by the weapons of the golem. Instead of waiting for oblivion, they had set their affairs in order, and walked out of the great gate into the empty land, where men now built their villages. Our magic was weaker there, and cutting the bonds between body and essence came more easily there. They sat in a circle under a large tree, and began to will their essence back into the shining world from which it came. It took a very long time, but when it was over their bodies were consumed with a bright yellow flame, and nothing was left but piles of fine ash that blew away on the wind. It was said that any of us could choose such an end, but there was very rarely need of it, and the willpower required was immense.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As the darkness closed in around me, I resolved that I would rather become a pile of ashes on the floor of a prison than let Koschei work his sorcery and use me to enter the Summer Realm.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">For days, perhaps even weeks, I lay on the floor, refusing all food and water, willing my essence to depart. I began to slip into a strange state. I do not know whether the things I saw were mere phantoms, delusions brought on by a body slowly dying, or whether I had began to hallucinate after so long in the darkness. Perhaps they were even real. There were ghostly shapes that moved to and fro, passing through the walls as if they were not there. Some of them were terrible to look at: misshapen and grotesque, they seemed too malformed to function, but they walked and lurched about me just the same.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Some of the ghostly figures I saw were sad, and seemed to be mourning; a few even seemed to be searching for a lost item that could never be found. Their forms were like smoke, and they seemed to be forever dissolving away into the air. The further I slipped from the world of Koschei's castle, the clearer they became to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">One day, I found that I could no longer open my eyes, and I knew that the end could not be far away. Even through my closed eyes, I could see them; shadowy figures wandering here and there. Sometimes I even thought I could hear the sounds they made: this one wailing, that one crying, and another gibbering in anger. I prepared myself to pass from life far from my home, with no-one to see or mourn my passing.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then, a jumble of noise that did not come from the phantoms. I felt myself being lifted from the cold stone floor.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Is she dead? If she is, he will have our heads.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“no, not dead, at least, not yet. But she is fading, and I do not think there is anything that medicine can do to help her. Someone must tell him.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I heard no more, for blackness came over me then. When it passed, I could tell that Koschei had entered the room, and was careful to give no sign that I was aware of him.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“we found her like this, master,” one of the voices said in a servile tone. “She has not been wounded nor poisoned, and I do not think any of my skills can help her.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“No, they cannot,” he growled. “She has never undergone the Ordeal of Darkness, perhaps the dungeon is too much for her. Her people are great lovers of light. I cannot have her in this state when the time comes for the ritual; her essence must be intact.” There was silence for a while, and I felt myself beginning to slip back into the blackness. Then Koschei spoke again. “The wards on the walls are strong, and I will circle them myself to add a charm against her. Take her out into the garden, and lay her to rest in the shade of one of the trees. She should begin to revive.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I felt myself being picked up and carried up the steps. After a time, I could feel the wind on my skin, and fresh air in my lungs.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My body began to respond to the air and light, and my will was not strong enough to hold it back. Over the next two days, I felt the life in me twining closer to my body again, and the shadowy visions faded back into oblivion.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">On the third day outside, I opened my eyes. I was under the shade of a large pine, a few steps away from a large patch of sunlight. There was still snow on the ground in places, and much of the rest was bare muddy earth, but where the sunlight struck I could see the tiny points of grass blades beginning to poke out of the ground. A bird sang outside the castle walls, and the sun shone as brightly even here in the home of Koschei as it did in my city.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I sat up, feeling weakened but grudgingly grateful to be alive. A plate of simple food was beside me: a hard heel of bread, peasant's cheese, and a flask of water. I devoured it all eagerly. Only after I had finished did I notice something odd about the place I was in.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">On every side of me rose thin twining bars of iron. I had taken them for saplings and tree branches when first I saw them, but now I saw that they met over my head, twisting together to make something not unlike a bird cage. I had enough room to move between shade and sun, but little more.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A few moments after I finished my meal, I heard Koschei's booted feet on crunching through the remaining patches of snow. He eyed me for a long minute, watching in silence as I watched him. I had risen to my feet: no matter how weak I was, I would not kneel before him if I could help it. Finally, he spoke.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You gave us a moment of worry there, feygirl. I almost thought my key to the Realm had slipped away. It's a good thing your kind responds so powerfully to the sun. I shall remember that. It may come in useful when I come to do battle in Hyperborea.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I could not help but shudder at that, and he smiled coldly. “There is little left for me to learn, you know. A few more weeks, and I shall master it, and then there will be nowhere in this world that is closed to me.”<span style=""> </span>He drew a long thin knife from his belt: it was made of iron, and twisted cruelly, swarming with graven symbols. I could read only a few of them, but it was more than enough. He toyed with it for a moment, then slid it back into the sheath.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I do not fear death,” I said quietly.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I know you do not: you have shown that already in your foolish attempt to die. I do not recommend trying such a thing again. I have established certain safeguards should you attempt it.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He turned and walked away into his castle. I ran a hand along one of the bars of the cage, but the cold iron had been ensorcelled, and it burned my hand.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When night came, it quickly grew cold, and servants appeared, bearing rough blankets and furs, to keep the worst of the chill away. I made a bed and lay down, but did not sleep. The stars spun slowly overhead as the world turned, moving me closer to the day of my doom.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Several days passed in this fashion, and I tried to think of some way to escape the cage that Koschei had built. But the bars burned my hands, and I knew no charms powerful enough to overcome his, save those that required herbs and preparations that I did not have.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But one day I heard a sound that was neither bird song nor beast passing, nor any of Koschei's guard. I listened carefully to the scrape of boot against rock, the brush of branch against sleeve, and the quiet crack of twig underfoot. Soon, a familiar form dropped from the tree to the ground.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Ivan Petrovka!” I whispered hurriedly., scarcely believing my own eyes. “What do you mean by coming here? And how did you get in? This is the castle of Koschei, and he has charmed the land for miles around.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ivan smiled, and pulled a small gold talisman from his neck. “My sisters' husbands have many powers of their own. And it appears that Koschei is more interested in keeping his prisoners in than he is in keeping anyone else out.” He reached down, and touching the talisman to the cage, quickly opened the door.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“come with me, there isn't much time to lose. He is out hunting, and we may have a chance to get away.” He took my hand and began to walk toward the base of the pine tree, but I stopped, my heart heavy. '</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You should not have come, Ivan. Koschei's horse is the fastest creature in the world, no-one can even catch it, and nothing has ever been known to outrun it. We would not get far, and then it would be death for you and worse for me.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He shook his head. “I will explain everything on our way, but I have his promise to spare my life, even twice. I think he will be bound by the oath he swore, and this is the only chance.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Without hope, I climbed the tree, trying to be thankful even for a few moments of freedom. We crossed the wall without incident, perhaps due to the talisman Ivan wore, and climbed onto his sturdy horse. With a quick kick of his heels, the horse was off and running across the countryside.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Hurry, for Koschei will come soon,” I called above the rush of the wind in our ears. “How did you gain such an oath from him? How did you know he had taken me?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound was the pounding of the horse's hooves.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I am sorry, my lady, I did not heed your words. I went to the tower. When I opened the door, I saw an old withered man, bound by silver chains, and looking near death. My heart was moved at his appearance, and I fetched a cup of water with which to revive him. He raised his head and drank the water at one gulp, then pleaded with me for another. Fearing your words, I hesitated, but he assured me that if he could ever save my life, he would do so, in exchange for a pail of water. I brought it to him then, for he truly did appear on the edge of death. He drank the pail in a single gulp, and his withered skin began to fill out again, but he was still grey and pale as death. Again, he offered me my life if it was ever in his power to do so, and I brought him another pail. This he also drained in a single gulp, and then fear struck into my heart, for color returned to him, and his eyes were like coals. With a single word he burst the chains and grew to fill the room. With a voice like thunder, he swore that I would never see you again, for he intended to take his vengeance upon you for imprisoning him. He leapt from the window and rode a whirlwind until I saw him no more.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As he told the story, I began to strain to hear him over the pounding rhythm of the horse's hooves. Slowly, I began to shake, for I heard the hooves of two horses, not one.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He had hardly finished his story when a rider on a night-black horse dashed in front of us, causing Ivan's horse to rear and halt, nearly throwing us from his back.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Koschei's eyes flamed from inside the hood of the cloak that he wore. “Foolish boy, you thought you could take my vengeance from me? Let this be a lesson to you!” He uttered a word at Ivan, and it streaked through the air like green fire. I turned away, expected to see my faithful servant reduced to ashes at my feet, but the curse fell away from him like a mist. Koschei looked baffled for a moment, then understanding came to him. “Very well; I swore to give you your life if it was within my power. You have escaped death today, do not seek it again.”</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was not long before I found myself in the iron cage again. The wards around it were made stronger still, and I could no longer even go near the bars before the curses on the metal began to burn. A week passed in near silence; I hoped that Ivan had gone far away. For a mortal man to survive an encounter with Koschei even once was a near miracle, and I did not think he could do so again, promise or no.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But at the end of the week I heard the scrape of his boots again, and saw him drop from the tree. Another talisman hung from his neck, and again he opened the doors of the iron cage with no difficulty.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We rode even more swiftly this time, hoping against hope to outrun the night-black horse of the sorcerer. As soon as we were away from the castle wall, I asked, “You carry many talismans, Ivan, and they seem to work magics even I could not do without much preparation. Where did you come by them?”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“You may remember the story of my sisters' weddings. On my way here, I happened by a large and beautiful house, all of rich wood with fine bronze ornaments. When I came within the yard, my sister Irina came running out to greet me, followed by her husband. They were overjoyed to see me, and bid me stay with them. I stayed with them for a time, but they could see that my heart was heavy. When Irina asked the source of my sadness, I told her. Her husband told me the way to Koschei's castle, but reminded me that he was a powerful sorcerer, and bid me take his talisman to help ease the way. I did, leaving my own silver spoon in return, that they might see it and think of me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I set out along my way, and at the end of two days' walk, I found myself outside a house built of fine wood with gold ornaments. My second sister, Anastasia, came running out to greet me. Her husband followed, welcoming me warmly to their home. I stayed with them for three nights, but they could see that my brow was furrow, and asked the source of my sorrow. When I explained, my sister's husband told me how to find Koschei's castle, but bid me be wary of his traps. He gave me his talisman to help me on my way, and I left my silver snuffbox with them that they might remember me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Again, I set out, and a week later found myself in a clearing. In front of me stood a house of dark stone, decorated with ebony. My sister Tatiana ran out to greet me, and threw her arms about me. Her husband welcomed me, and gave a fine feast in my honor. But the next day, they could see that my feet were restless, and asked me the source of my desire to be so quickly gone. I told the story, and my sister's husband took me to his roof, and showed me the roof of Koschei's castle far in the distance. He gave me a talisman to keep me safe, and I left my silver knife with them to remember me by. When I left them, I walked for three more days, and finally found myself at the walls of Koschei's palace. What has happened since then, you know as well as I.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of flame, and Koschei burst out of the woods in front of us, riding his horse and brandishing a sword. His eyes were like red hot pokers, and again he cast his curse at Ivan. When it fell harmless to the ground, he sneered. “There is the second promise, fool. Do not come for her again, for there will be nothing to keep me from destroying you.” He grabbed my hair and dragged me across the saddle of his horse, and galloped back to the castle.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next week, everything at Koschei's castle seemed quiet, almost as if we all waited to see what would happen. I felt sick to my heart when I saw Ivan drop over the wall again. I protested when he opened the cage for the third time. “Run away from here, Ivan Petrovka. Your talismans will not protect you from Koschei's anger, and you have run out of promises. He will surely cut you down.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But he refused to listen, saying, “I swore loyalty to you, lady, and it is through my curiousity that you are here. If I die, I die trying to set things right, as a man should. My father would be proud.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This time we did not talk while riding, but held our tongues. The horse ran fast, but I knew it could never be fast enough to outrun Koschei's steed. I listened to the whistle of the wind in my ears, and far too soon heard the sound of hoofbeats coming toward us.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Koschei did not bother to stop before unleashing his wrath at Ivan, but struck him with the curse and sent him tumbling from the horse. I grabbed the reins and pulled the beast to a halt before slipping to the ground, and running back.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was too late. As I reached the ground where the two stood, I saw Koschei draw his sword, now flickering with tongues of flame, and cut Ivan's head from his body.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I ran forward, stricken, but Koschei lashed out with the sword again and again, and I could not bear to look at what was left of my poor faithful Ivan.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Days blended into each other, back in the cage at the castle. There was nothing to listen for, nothing to do but prepare myself for the end that Koschei had prepared. I tried to tell myself that I could run, once we were near the great Gate between realms, but I knew all too well that it was useless. There were no charms I knew that might allow me to overpower him, and no chance to gather the items I would need to prepare any charms that might help.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How had it come to this, I wondered. Only a few short weeks before, I had been ruler of an entire land, built out of the earth by my very own hands. An undefeatable army had been mine to command, and trading had made my lands rich. And here I sat in a simple iron cage, waiting to die, and mourning the loss of one servant.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">At any moment, I expected to see those eyes of flame and hear the word that his preparations were complete, but they did not come.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Spring passed into summer, and still I waited, caught in a place between life and death. And then one day, a bird sang. This was not so unusual; after all, the woods surrounding the castle were filled with birds who sang all day long. But I had never heard this song before. It was quick, a joyous upward trilling, and it struck fire into the heart. “Wait, it is coming,” the song seemed to say, “have hope.” I listened to the bird all day, and the song eased me into sleep that night.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When I woke, I heard a sound I had never thought to hear again: the scrape of boots on the wall, and the faint rustling of the tree above me. In a moment, Ivan dropped into the courtyard, and had opened the cage. Silently, he beckoned me out.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“But, I saw you lying dead, how..?” he silenced me with a quick gesture, and in another moment we were over the wall again. Instead of his ordinary brown horse, I saw a large coal-black creature, with a shining white star on its forehead. It stamped its hoof on seeing Ivan, and when we were seated, it began to run. I thought it must be faster than the wind itself, so fast did it carry us over the land.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We rode in silence, and I noticed that Ivan had been changed. Though whole again, he seemed to be almost fragile. His body seemed to give off a faint light, though he was solid and no ghost.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In the midst of my musings, I heard the sound of hoofbeats, and looked behind us to see Koschei, snarling terribly, riding his horse, and slowly catching up to us. He had almost met us, and was raising his sword to strike, when Ivan's horse screamed. I could have sworn I heard words in the sound, but it was terrible and struck to the heart. At the sound of it, Koschei's horse reared up, tossing its head about, and knocking its master to the ground.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So fast did Ivan's horse move that we were quickly leaving them behind, but I saw the night-black horse raise its hooves and strike its master once, twice, and more times than I could see.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We rode until the end of the day, when Ivan quietly guided the horse into a stable, by a house in a clearing. Though I had never seen the house, I recognized it instantly. It stood tall and proud, a building of fine stone, ornamented with polished ebony.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A young woman ran out to greet us. Her hair was brown, with years of sun in it, and her eyes were the color of cornflowers. Her face was as delicate as a doll's, and I could read her love for her brother in every facet of it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“Tatiana,” he said quietly, embracing her. “It is good to see you, but I am afraid I must speak with your husband alone for a moment. I will see you at dinner.” She frowned, but was placated by his smile, and went back into the house. A few moments later a man appeared, with hair the color of a raven's wing. He spoke to Ivan for a few moments, the two of them murmuring so quietly that I could not overhear what was said. Ivan looked up at the setting sun for a long moment, then gave a great sigh, and turned back to me.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My great lady Marya, I have little to offer you myself, but my sister and her husband have offered us the hospitality of their home for as long as we have need of it. I think we will have much to speak of tomorrow, but for tonight, let us enjoy their table and sleep well.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There was something strange in his voice and the look in his eyes gave me pause, but I quickly agreed, and the three of us went into the house. There was a large meal laid out on the table, and we ate all we wanted. Then, at Ivan's request, Tatiana danced for us, by the light of the fireplace, while her husband played upon the balalaika. She was a joy to watch, for her feet moved with surety and grace, and she laughed while she danced, the laugh of one who knows she is loved and has nothing to fear.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was late when we each went to our beds, and the moon shone high over the house.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was quiet when I awoke the next morning, and warm sunlight streamed through the window onto the blankets of my bed. I got up and quickly got dressed. When I entered the main rooms of the house, I saw Tatiana in the kitchen, and went to thank her for her hospitality.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“It is good to have you and my brother stay with us,” she said, slicing a freshly-baked loaf of bread. “His journey has been very long and hard, and it is good to see him happy. I only wish that he could be so happy forever.” She looked up at me then, concern in her blue eyes. “I do not think you are an evil person, but there is something evil that is following you, and it has touched Ivan. He is different, and something tells me that he will never be truly happy again, at least not in this world.” I wanted to ask her more, to find out what she meant, but the men joined us then, and the morning meal began.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">After the meal, Ivan pulled me aside, and we walked on a cleared path through the woods surrounding the house.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My lady, forgive me for acting so familiar with you at the moment, but there is not much time left.” His voice was quiet, and it still had that odd note I had heard in it the day before. I looked at him carefully; he seemed to shine even brighter than he had the day before. He saw the question forming on my lips.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I cannot stay like this, my lady. I did die, and there is nothing that can change that.” He saw a small carved bench, and gestured to it; as we took our seats, he continued.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I do not remember anything after the first blow that Koschei struck with his sword, but I have since learned that he cut my body into pieces, and ordered his servants to gather the pieces in a barrel, which was then thrown into the ocean.” I shuddered, but he took no notice, and continued.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“As I told you, I left various items with my sisters for remembrance. One day, these began to blacken, and they knew that something was wrong. Their husbands gathered to take counsel. Tatiana's husband reported that he had heard stories of a strange object floating in the sea, and they journeyed to the coast. Upon recovering the barrel and seeing what had happened to me, they laid the pieces out together. As you may have noticed, they are not ordinary men. I do not know how it was done, but when each had performed his rites, I stood upon the shore, breathing the breath of life once again.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“they begged me to return with them, to live with any of them, and told me how glad my sisters would be to see me again, but I knew that I had a duty to fulfill as long as I drew breath. Upon seeing my determination, they told me how to find a horse as fast as Koschei's.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He paused then, his eyes far away and distant, remembering. “Across a bridge of fire lives the Baba Yaga,and I entered her service for three days. I will not tell that story here, but they were strange days, filled with strange tasks and stranger creatures. At the end of it, I had a horse to rival the sorcerer's, and it is that creature that we rode today.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He stood then, looking out into the clearing. His sister had gone out to feed her chickens, and was gleefully tossing grain to them, singing as she did so. He looked at her as if he would have been content to do so forever, and suddenly I knew.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“you are not here for long, are you,” I asked quietly. “the life they could give was not the life you had lost.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He shook his head, eyes still fixed on Tatiana. “It would only last a season, which is why they wished me to come back and live with one of my sisters, that they might be with me during that final season. But a season is long enough to do much, and I have kept my word, and fulfilled my duty, and now I am given a single day to be with those I love. It is more than many receive.”</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The day passed quickly, and Ivan seemed determined to wring as much from it as he could. He spent every moment possible with Tatiana: cutting firewood for her kitchen in the morning while she hung laundry to dry, pulling weeds from her garden while she selected vegetables for the day's meals, even helping her wind the skeins of wool she had spun. No matter how lowly the task, he did it with a laugh, as long as they could be together. Myself and Tatiana's husband, Viktor, were included in the glow of their happiness, but knew that we remained somehow outside it.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Tatiana did not seem to know that this would be Ivan's last day among the living, and if her husband and brother did not wish to darken her happiness by telling her of his fate, I would not speak out. But it broke my heart to see her so happy and smiling, knowing that the source of her happiness would be gone by the next sunrise. For a moment, I understood how the lives of men must be, living presently with what small happinesses they may find, not knowing when these will be gone. It was something my people could never truly understand, I think. But what is most wonderous about it is not that their lives are made of such fading stuff, nor that their joys are so fleeting, but that, even knowing that all such things must be taken from them in the end, they manage to be joyful at all.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The day moved inexorably on toward night, the sun dipping toward the western horizon, and I watched it with an anxious eye. I could tell that Ivan was aware of it, too, and the sound of his laughter was now tinged with a longing, a wish that the moments might be longer, the day might last a single hour more. But things are as they are, and nothing we do can change the motion of the sun in the sky.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As the light turned from gold into red, Ivan called us all together in the clearing in front of the house. Taking Tatiana's hands, he smiled and kissed her forehead. The light that shone from him was very bright now, and even Tatiana seemed to know that this was no common farewell.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“My dearest sister,” he began, before his voice caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, and swallowed with difficulty, then began again. “Dear Tatiana, youngest of my father's daughters and closest to my heart, I wish that this day had never come to pass. But the time has come, and I must leave you.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Tears sprang to her eyes instantly, but she did not sob, as I had expected, but simply buried her face in his robes while he embraced her.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“do not cry, Tatiana. I have seen a glimpse of what lies beyond this life, and I am not sad. I do not want you to be sad either, save that we must spend a little while apart before you join me. Be good while I am gone, and say your prayers, and love Viktor very much, and before you know it, the years will have gone and you will be coming to join me.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and gently pulled away from her.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He stood in the middle of the clearing alone, shining brighter than the remaining daylight. The light that shone from him was not harsh or blinding like the light of the sun, but rather rich and fluid, like the light at the heart of a fine opal. He turned to Viktor, and bowed slightly. “Brother, I thank you for giving my sister so much happiness, and for allowing me one final day with her. I will remember you for as long as my soul endures, and will commend you to My Lord.” Viktor returned the bow silently.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Finally, Ivan turned to me, and the look in his eyes was hard to bear; it seemed to scorch my very heart. “My dear lady, I know that you could never return the feelings I bore for you. Such was my burden to bear, and you must not try to take it on yourself. Such things are common among the race of men, and we are accustomed to bearing a broken heart for a time. Know this: everything I have done, I have done freely and from love, and I would not have it any other way. You have a great destiny in front of you. Welcome it, even the pain.”</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Then something seemed to call to him, and he looked out from us to a point very far away, and the look on his face was like nothing I had seen. The light around him grew so bright that it obscured the form of his body for a moment, filling the clearing with its radiance. Then the rim of the sun dropped below the horizon, and the light disappeared; we saw Ivan's fallen form lying where he had stood, and it was already cold.</span></p> </div> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Tatiana and Viktor invited me to stay with them for as long as I liked, but I had not the heart to stay with them after all that had happened. Despite what Ivan had said, I knew that he was dead because he had been with me, and I could not bear the weight of the knowledge. I had not known the life of a single man could weigh so heavily on the world, nor that the influence could continue after his death. I wished to be very far away from all men; not in order to escape them, but in order that my doom not draw them in.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I bid farewell to them as soon as I could and set out on my way. With a leaden heart, I slowly made my way back to the city that I had founded. My absence had scarcely been noted; the guilds and tradesmen ruled the marketplace as always, and the palace ran smoothly under the watchful eye of the armsmaster. I could hear whispers as I climbed the steps to the palace, no longer the cold proud lady of the realm that I had been. I sought out the armsmaster, who appeared somewhat shocked to see my return.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I gave him no reason for my long absence, and he did not ask for one.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">“I am leaving these lands,” I told him calmly. “I cannot be the lady of the realm any longer, but I wish to make sure that everything is provided for the<span style=""> </span>people before I go. This castle will soon fall; I cannot help that. It is inextricably linked to me through the magic that created it, and when I relinquish these lands, it will begin to crumble. I will do what I can to see that the walls last as long as possible; do your best to encourage the people to rebuild them, for they will keep you safe in time of attack. I do not wish to leave you unprotected.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We talked for many hours, making provisions for the coming years. Finally, it was done, and I felt empty inside. I got to my feet, and looked out of the nearby window. I could see over the wall of the palace and into the town. Men and women went about their lives as they had done in this place for many years, and as their kind had done since they had come into the world. I could see a woman nursing her infant, a man returning from a hunt with his kill slung over his back, and heard the fragment of a simple peasant song. For a brief moment, I wished I could stay with them, and learn to share their simple joys, but I knew such a thing to be impossible.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The armsmaster walked with me to the gates of the castle. As I passed through, he hesitated, then called out. “My lady!”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I turned, and he raised a hand in benediction. “God be with you, my lady, and keep you.”</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I bowed my head in acknowledgment of his words, and made my way through the town. The men and women ceased their activity as I walked past, watching me go, but they soon resumed their work. I was gone, as if I had never been. The only thing that marked my existence in the land was the castle, and I knew that already tiny cracks would be rippling through its stones. In a year's time, it would be merely a pile of rubble, from which the peasants' sons would draw stones to build their houses and fences. In another twenty years, nothing would be left at all.</span></p> <p class="Textbody" style="margin: 9pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I was glad of it.</span></p> <div style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color black; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in;"> <p class="Textbody" style="border: medium none ; margin: 9pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I walked deep into the forest, until the sounds of the city no longer met my ears, then I cast a salt circle and slept for a day and a night. Waking the next morning, I set out on my way again, ever deeper into the forest, away from the world of man. Again, I cast a circle and lay down to sleep, but this circle was different. In the morning, the fine lady was gone, and a large grey wolf ran away into the heart of the wood.</span></p> </div>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-6215069767326243682010-11-09T21:47:00.000-08:002010-11-09T21:48:40.243-08:00The Fisherman and His Wife<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';"><br /></span> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I walked through the land for many seasons, but when spring came, I felt ready for a change again. My time with Ivanushka had given me my fill of humanity for quite some time. When I came the sea, still choked with ice, I felt a great longing for the cool depths of water, and the solitude of the ocean. I dove in, and as I hit the water felt my body turn smooth and scaly as I took on the form of a great fish. The water no longer felt biting cold, but simply cool and refreshing. The sunlight filtered through the waves in rays of blue and green, and the waves pulsed around me. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I spent days exploring the rocks and reefs around me; the ocean holds such great wonders, and since I had always spent my time in the forest, it was all new to me. I loved watching the schools of smaller fish flicker in and out of the light, responding instantly to any threat. The motion of the water was captivating, moving things back and forth to its own rhythm. Little flecks of gold and other minerals sparkled in the light, and the silence was welcome. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The hooks of fishermen were easy to dodge, though I often saw fish be snatched away by them. Fish are not, perhaps, the most intelligent company, but it was nice to be expected to interact or converse. And being away from the chattering world of humans was all I wanted, and the great ocean offered plenty of escape. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But one cannot escape forever, and the human world was fated to invade mine at every turn. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">One day late in the spring, when the ocean was beginning to warm and the fishermen were out in droves, I was swimming lazily along. I had let myself grow complacent, and no longer kept a sharp eye out at all times. A strong eddy caught me off guard and I found myself swept into a net. I struggled to free myself, but the net was caught on my fins and scales, and I could not get loose. In a few moments, I lay gasping on the deck of a small boat. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Rough hands pulled me from the net, and tossed me in a bucket with a host of other fish. I cried out, and the fisherman turned around in astonishment. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Please,” I begged. “Throw me back. I am not an ordinary fish. I will not feed your family well.</span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He leaned over and examined me through eyes dim with the glare of the sun on water. His face was red and burned from the salt carried on the rough sea winds, and his hands were calloused. “I don't believe I've ever caught a talking fish. I wonder how much you'd bring at market, fish?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The thought of becoming a performing animal in some rich man's hall disgusted me. Swallowing my pride, I pleaded for my life. “Do not sell me. Please, I am far from my home and wish to remain in the sea.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I could see the battle rage within him for a moment. After all, such a wonder would fetch a fine price, but he did not want to summon down the wrath of a witch onto himself either, should I prove to be a witch or other such creature. Finally, he sighed and picked me back up. “Have it your way, fish. I can't say that I like getting in the habit of tossing a good catch back, but I don't suppose there are too many talking fish in the sea.” With a heave, he threw me back into the water, and I felt the glorious rush of freedom. I quickly swam as deep as I could go, determined to stay there until I was ready to resume my ordinary form. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But that respite did not last long. The next morning, I heard someone on the sea, bellowing loudly. “Fish! Talking fish! Come back and speak with me; my wife would ask a favor of you!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I wanted to ignore him, and for a few minutes I tried to do so. But his bellowing was painful to the ears, and it did remain that I owed my life to his generosity, so I swam to the surface. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Yes, what is it, then?” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">he leaned over the side of his boat with a look of surprise. I am not entirely certain he expected me to arrive, but he swallowed hard, then spoke. “Well, you see, I went home and told my wife that I'd caught a talking fish, but decided to toss you back when you begged for your life. And my wife, you see, well, she wishes we had a better life, and Lord knows I'd like to give her what she wants, but fishing's all I know, and it doesn't pay as well as she would like. And so she told me that I should have asked you for something in exchange.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I considered this for a moment. “That seems fair. What would she like?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He scratched his head, still seeming to be confused by the whole affair. “Well, she'd like to have a nice house, like our neighbors have. And she'd like a few good dresses to go with the house. She says it's no use having a good home if you don't look like you belong in it.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I nodded. “Very well, fisherman. Go home. Your wife is waiting for you in your new home.” I cast a glamor toward the shore, where his house was, and ducked back beneath the waves. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Had it ended there, I would have thought nothing of it, and even been glad to do it. But humans can never be satisfied with what they have, or even what their neighbor has: no, they must have everything that can be had. I think it they were given the whole of the universe, with the sun, moon and stars thrown in for good measure, they would still not believe it to be enough.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The next day, as I was investigating some old shells at the bottom of the bay, I heard the fisherman's shouts again. Impatiently, I swam toward the surface again. “Yes?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">His red face seemed to be a shade or two redder than usual, and he seemed ill at ease. “It's my wife again, if you please.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Did she not like her new house and clothes?” I could feel my anger rising, and struggled to keep my temper in check. It would not do to destroy this simple man or his wife, no matter how tempting I found it. </span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">He held a shapeless hat in his hands, and seemed to be twisting it nervously. “She did, at first. But after a night in the new home, she wondered why she had only asked for a nice little cottage like the neighbors have. She think she should have asked for a larger home, like the sort the tax collector has. If she had that, she believes she’d be content, and most grateful.” He finished quietly, as if not willing to complete the thought. </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I knew that it would do no good. Such a person can never be happy with what everyone else has: she must have all that, and must also have what no-one else has. But that was neither here nor there, and the fisherman was waiting for my response. </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“Go home,” I said wearily. “Your wife is waiting for you. Her house is as fine as the tax collector's, and more.”</p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He hesitated for a moment, then turned his boat around and quietly rowed back to shore. I already knew what he would find there: a large house, made of stone and plaster, with fine rugs on the floor, and a wife who would greet him with a pinched face and wonder why he hadn't asked for more. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I swam back into the depths of the ocean. I had no need to sleep, as a fish, but I found myself daydreaming sometimes about my old home. I had never had a house, and had no desire to have one. In the Summer Realm, I simply slept in a hammock of vines in the middle of my garden. It was open to the winds and the gentle rains, and full of the smell of jasmine and other flowers. Many of my people built houses, and of course the Queen lived in the palace, with its walls of fine stone and labyrinthine gardens. But each of us lived in the kind of place we liked best, with no thought of comparing our own dwelling to another's. I could not understand this burning of the heart that made the fisherman's wife despise everything she was given. I thought of it as a poison in the blood that gradually reached the eyes, causing them to see things not as they were, but as she wished them to be, and blackening her sight of things that were. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Soon enough, another day had passed, and I was already at the surface of the sea, waiting for the fisherman to arrive. He sat silently in the boat, looking out over the surface of the sea for a long time. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">What has she asked for this time,” I asked him. I was surprised to find myself feeling a little bit of pity for him. His sadness was evident even before he spoke a word. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Fish, my wife would like to be a great countess, with the house, jewels, and clothing that go with such a thing. She wishes to be robed in rich furs and invited to dance with the Tsar at the palace.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">That is easily enough done,” I replied, “but she would do better to learn to be content with what she has. I think there is more.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He nodded miserably, eyes still fixed on the faraway horizon. “She...she says that I am no fit husband for her as I am. A countess should not be wed to a poor simple fisherman, she says, and she wishes for me to ask you to make me a great count.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I watched him for a long time, seeing how his eyes played over the face of the water, and how his hands deftly plied the oars to keep his tenuous position on the water. The love of the ocean was deep in his blood, and I did not think that clothing him in furs and silks would cover up the fisherman. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you wish to be a great count, fisherman?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He threw up his hands in desperation. “I am a fisherman as my father was before me, and his father before him. I grew up on these waters, and I think I might die if I ever left them. I make enough for us to live on, and I am content with my life. But my wife says she will not be happy until I am suitable for her new station.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Then why not leave your wife to her folly? Surely you can build a new cabin for yourself: I can even give you one, if you prefer.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He shook his head sadly. “I love my wife, fish, even though I wonder if she has now gone mad. She may leave me behind, in her quest for gems and gold, but I'll never leave her, not so long as I have breath in my body.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I do not understand such things, fisherman, but I will give your wife what she wants. Go home; she is a great countess, with a closet full of furs and silks, and an invitation from the Tsar is on her table.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He began to turn his boat around, then stopped. “You are not making me into a count? What shall I tell her about that?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Tell her that I cannot perform such a deed if your heart does not desire it.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I was growing tired of life in the sea. It was beautiful, but one day differed little from the day before it, and I was anxious to see the sun again and feel fresh earth beneath my feet. I resolved to return to land when the fisherman's wife had reached the end of her grasping covetousness. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Again, the fisherman rowed out, and again I was waiting for him. “What is it that she wishes now?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">If you please, fish, she...well, she was out dancing at the Tsar's palace last night, and she was so struck by everything she saw that she now wishes to be a Tsarina. She wishes to live in a palace by the sea, made all of fine stone and hanging with silks and tapestries, and have a hundred maid servants who obey her every wish.” I could tell that he did not want to speak such a brazen request, but felt bound to the promise he'd given his wife. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I can do it, but I will tell you already, she will not be happy in it, and tomorrow, you will be here asking me for something further. She had best learn to be contented now, or her greed will drag her down into madness.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He shook his head. “I fear she is already there, but I will tell her. Who knows, perhaps this time she has enough to quiet her restless heart?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">That night, I swam up the bay to the place where the river meets the sea, beside the great stone palace of the new Tsarina. It was full of light from lamps burning in every window, and there were lamps hung in the gardens as well. Servants rushed to and fro, carrying things, cleaning things, and doing the hundred little tasks that keep a palace running. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Silhouetted in the grand room of the palace, I could see the fisherman's wife. She was short and pale, and not entirely thin; a pleasant enough look, save for the pinched look that I knew her face must wear. Greed is one of the hardest things for a human being to hide: it always comes out in the face as a sort of hunger. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">She was shrieking at one of the servants to bring her something, and the poor girl was hurrying as fast as she could. Apparently, the task was not completed to the Tsarina's liking, because she picked up a hairbrush with a silver handle and threw it at the maidservant. It missed, and I could hear the brush clattering along the floor as the girl ran out of the room crying. In a few moments, she was outside the palace, and standing on an outcropping of rocks that overlooked the bay. Her dress was soaked with the spray, and I could see the look of desperation in her eyes. I drew myself out of the water and spoke to her. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">do not cast yourself into the sea, girl.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">She looked startled, but not even the wonder of a talking fish could alleviate her despair. “If you please, fish, my mistress has become such a hard creature. She was once my neighbor, and always greeted me and my mother when we met at market. Then one day she had a fine new cottage, and she no longer said hello to us. The next day, her cottage had turned into a fine house, and she hired me to help her keep it. She barely spoke to me, except to criticize the way I cleaned. And then she was a countess, and she struck me for the first time. Now she is Tsarina, and I am afraid she will take my life, and leave my mother all alone with no-one to care for her.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">She had sunk down to sit on the rocks, and dipped a foot in the water, heedless of the crashing waves. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">And what was it that you have done today to earn her ire,” I inquired. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">If you please, we went for a walk earlier today. She bid me bring her best silks to wear, and I clothed her as befitted her station. As she walked in the midst of her retinue, a cloud came up and rained for a few moments. When it passed and the sun came out again, her silks were ruined by the water. She blames me for letting it happen.”</span> </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">furious, I sought to keep my anger in check, lest I frighten the girl. Gathering myself, I spoke again. “Go home to your mother. Wait there during the night. Your mistress will not long have such power, I think, and you will be free to be happy again soon enough.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I waited throughout the night, raging against humanity, which could not keep itself from such greed. When the fisherman came again, as I knew he must, I could see the fear and dread on his face.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I am terribly sorry, fish, but she would give me no peace until I ventured back on the waters to find you.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It is not your fault, fisherman. I know from whom the requests come, and she is the one who must pay. What is she demanding this time?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He hung his head, and let his boat drift with the waves. “She is angry at the rain for ruining a dress she wore yesterday. She...fish, she wishes to be all-powerful, a goddess, to control wind and rain and all the forces of nature.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A swell swept under the boat as if to underscore the hubris of the request. There was silence on the water for many minutes. Then I spoke again. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I told your wife to be content with what she had, fisherman. She would not listen. Now she will have to learn it the hard way. Go home to your wife. She is in her simple clothing, in your old fishing hut.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He nodded slowly, but did not speak, and made no move to guide his boat back to shore. Eventually I swam away and left him there. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It was the last day I spent in the ocean. I had had enough of the cool dim water, the sound of waves, and the company of fish. I was eager for the warmth of the sun and the feel of grass brushing my legs, and the smell of green and growing things. I swam close to shore, and restored my original form before climbing up on the rocks. I sat for many hours, letting the sun dry my robes and hair. At midday, I saw a strange form in the water. I waited, letting it drift closer.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Finally, I saw that it was the body of a woman, drowned and battered by the waves. Her hair was wild, and one arm was outreached, as if to claim the sea itself. She must have jumped from the rocks when the news of her restored poverty reached her: the tide drew her out and the tide was slowly returning her to her home. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Out on the open ocean, I could barely make out the shape of a small boat, drifting aimlessly toward the horizon.</span> </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';"><br /></span> </p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-48922771694539731902010-11-09T21:46:00.000-08:002010-11-09T21:47:16.208-08:00Silver-Brown[Note: sorry, these are going to be posted in huge chunks. Hate doing that, but I haven't made any chapter divisions yet.]<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Sivka-Birka </span> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It was easy to be a horse, for a long time. I could run across the grass-covered plains for days, or at least, it felt as though I could. Time seemed to move differently for me now: no longer fluid and full of possibility, it seemed like a river in the winter, choked with ice and slow with mud. I wasn’t sure if this was due to the doom that the Lawkeepers had placed on me, or simply being in the form of the horse, but I suspected the former. After all, I had changed forms many times before, and not noticed any such change. This must be how Man experiences life, I thouhgt, and the realization made me sick at heart. How tragic, to spend such a short span of days and never be able to use them fully!</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I kept running, hooves pounding the ground, stopping to eat the grass when I was hungry and drinking from one fo the many ice-melt streams when I found myself thirsty. There were many wild horses in the lands in those days, and I lost myself among them quickly. I had no desire to go anywhere near any of the little peasant villages that were scattered across the steppe. I had seen enough of their kind to last a lifetime, and I did not wish to see more. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But sometimes, what we wish is not what we receive. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I do not know how long I had been living in that form, but one day, when the sun was shining warmly enough to make me think of home, I felt a sudden chill creep down my spine. The other horses seemed to notice it as well, for they began to stamp their hooves and snort at the air, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I saw him then, riding through the nearby forest, just inside the treeline. He was a man with ragged hair, clothed in robes of thick black fur, and seated on a horse as black as night. Horse and rider moved uncommonly fast, seeming to flit through the trees like wraiths. A definite chill moved through the air from their direction, and I knew who the mysterious rider was. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I was once told a tale of a man of my race, who was so determined to win glory for himself at any cost, that he sold his essence to the forces of evil. His heart was taken by the darkness, and shrunken into an egg, which was hidden in a fish, which in turn was hidden inside a duck, which was inside a hare, all kept in an iron chest on the highest mountain on the other side of the world. Then the heartless creature was immortal, doomed never to die unless someone held his heart in hand and crushed it beneath his heel. This creature, this pathetic, terrifying creature, was Koschei the Deathless. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Of course, I had never considered that he might be real. Like all figures from childhood tales, he had faded into the background until he became an image, a figure, a example for those who would strive for mere power. But I know this ominous figure could be none other than Koschei himself. He was said to ride a horse black as night, fast as the wind, and cruel as cold iron. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">At that moment, he pulled back on the horse's reins, drawing it up sharply, and wheeling around to look at me. To all human eyes, I knew, I would appear as any other horse, dappled silver and brown, and swift of foot. But what could those eyes see? </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I was frozen in place as he stared: his horse snorted hot breath, expelling a cloud of steam into the air, and pawed impatiently at the muddy ground. Finally, he turned and continued on his way, casting one final look over his shoulder before he disappeared among the trees. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">As soon as I could no longer hear the pound of his horse's hooves, I wheeled and ran as fast as I could. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I ran until I could run no farther, and was panting for breath. I could feel my sides heaving with the exertion, and thought I might drop into the mud then and there. But as I slowly began to come back to myself, I found myself at the edges of a farm. I had run through the carefully plowed fields without noticing, and large gouts of mud still clung to my hooves. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Dawn was approaching, and I took shelter in the nearby woods. The brush soon closed around me, and I slept. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I was woken by the shouts of distant shouting. The light told me it must have been mid-morning, but there was still a chill in the air. I got to my feet, and trotted around until I was warm. I had not yet grown accustomed to the cold of this world, and it took me time to drive the chill from my bones. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I moved closer to the shouting, trying to hear what was being said. It had been a very long time since I had heard speech of any kind, and it was both jarring and welcome. As I drew closer, I began to make out the words. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Of course we cannot fix it! The fields have been trampled into the mud, do you want to thresh dust along with the what? Do you want to eat mud spread into your bread?” finally, I saw the source of the sound; an old farmer was shouting at a young man, whom I took to be his son. All around them, their golden wheat had been trampled into the spring mud. It was the aftermath of my panicked flight through their fields, and I watched with interest to see what they would make of it. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It's only one part of one field,” protested the son. “The others are fine. I'll even stand watch myself tonight to make sure that nothing harms the rest of our crops.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">See that you do!” the father shouted before storming back into his barn. The young man looked angry, but determined. He sat down on his heels to examine the damage more closely. I withdrew back into the forest; I was sure I could outrun any of them, if it came to it, but better not to be seen at all. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I passed that day as I had passed many others; quietly nibbling at the grass, standing in a patch of sunlight and trying to get warm, and keeping a careful eye out for anyone who might wish to try his hand at capturing a wild horse from the plains. I hoped to be on my way at nightfall; it would not do to stay here, but I could not leave by day without risking capture. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Finally, night fell, and I quietly walked out of the wood. The moon was hovering on the horizon, looking almost big enough to swallow the whole farm. Its silver light fell on everything, turning even the golden wheat to cold steel. </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I had barely begun my journey when I hear the familiar sound of hooves again, and Koschei appeared in the forest across the field from me. I turned to run, but before I could go a single step, he was at my side, his furs shining darkly and his iron stirrups clanking in the darkness. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">you are not what you seem,” he breathed, the vapor from his breath drifting into the cold night air. “And I must wonder, what is one of your kind doing here, in such a humble form, so far from the warmth of the sun?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">His voice was low, and rasped slightly in his throat; not an unpleasant voice, but there was a malice in it that struck straight to the heart. If snakes could speak, they might sound like Koschei: though the words were smooth, there was poison hidden in it. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">No answer then, little not-a-horse? No matter, I do not care what your story is. I can guess all too well. You did something, some small thing, the Lawkeepers did not care for, and they exiled you from the warm world you knew into this land of ice and snow. They charged you to perform some act, perhaps of love or maybe humility, and told you that the way back would be barred to you until you did as they wished.”</span> </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I kept silent, and backed away, but there was nowhere to go. Koschei laughed. “Oh, of course they did! And you think that I am here to kill you, to slay you here in your new four-footed form, and prevent you from reaching your salvation.”</span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">his laughter ceased, and the coldness returned to his demeanor. “I do not care about any such thing. I do not eat horseflesh, even when the horse is a Hyperborean in disguise. Too stringy.” His horse snorted, and he leaned over his saddle and brought his face close to mine. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">No, I am not here to kill you. I offer you a place in my service: you could take your proper form with no risk, and learn the secrets of power. There are many in my household who study such things, and they would be happy to teach any servant of mine what they know. You need no longer miss your home—you would learn how to create your own paradise if you so wished.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The air seemed charged and my skin crawled. I could feel the strength of the magic he posessed. He must have learned many things since he had been one of my people, and I had no idea what he might be capable of. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I wish I could tell you that I refused his offer immediately and ran away, but such was not the case. The sting of exile still rankled in my heart, and the thought of creating my own new home held the promise of freedom. I could feel the power of Koschei rippling through the cool night air: little eddys and currents in it swirled around the clearing. Even a human would have been able to sense something unusual going on, though they would not have been able to tell that it was magic. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I almost said yes. I almost went with him. But there was a taste to Koschei's power that gave me pause; something metallic, bitter, and rank. Even when he talked of creating a new paradise, it was there behind the words, poisoning each one. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I will find my own way,” I finally replied, “But not through you. I will find my own way.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He laughed again, a raucous grating sound, and turned to go. “As you will, little not-a-horse. But I think you will come to regret that decision very much.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I turned to leave the clearing, but heard a sound and looked back. Koschei was spurrign his horse to run at me; his eyes were full of fire, and I swore that little tongues of flame streamed from the ends of his hair. His horse's hooves struck sparks from the ground, though it was soft and muddy, and they came towards me like a storm full of thunder and lightning. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I ran. I ran as fast as my horse form could carry me, but it was never fast enough: wherever I went, there was fiery Koschei, laughing that horrible laugh. Any thought for the farmer's fields was gone from my head—all I wanted to do was to escape the sorcerer. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He kept me running all through the night, and when dawn came and I found myself alone in the forest once more, I was ready to collapse from exhaustion. I found a spot warmed by the sun, and quickly fell asleep. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Whether the dreams were brought on by my fear, the night of exertion, or by nearness to Koschei himself, I do not know. I found myself in my old form, wandering through my beloved garden. It was overgrown and choked with grass. My flower vines had not been trimmed, and had grown through the garden, turning everything into one vast tangle. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I walked through the garden, trying to untangle it, but nothing would respond to my touch, and the tangle grew tighter. When I reached the middle of the garden, the flower vines began to cling to my arms, wrapping themselves around me. I tried to move, to cry out, but as is so often the case in dreams, I found myself silently rooted to the spot. My vines grew around me, tighter and tighter, and finally closed over my face, blocking out the warm sun. As the last ray disappeared, I cried out and awoke in the forest clearing. The sun was warm, and there was silence all around except for the song of birds. I felt nothing but cold. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I rose to get a drink from the nearby stream. I felt as though I could have drained a lake, and it was several long minutes before I raised my head again. I could her the farmer bellowing again, and moved to the edge of the forest to see what I might. There were three young men with the farmer now; the eldest was the focus of his wrath and stood shamefaced in the middle of the damage my hooves had created the night before. The second one stood with a wry expression, and it was immediately clear to me that he relished the chance to show his father that he was the more worthy of the brothers. The youngest simply sat in the mess, and plaited several bruised stalks together. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It must have made a terrible noise coming through here like this,” the farmer shouted at his eldest son. “And yet you slept through it all? You haven't been working hard enough during the day to sleep like such a rock!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I do not know, father,” he protested, the redness creeping up his cheeks and flushing his face. “It came over me all of a sudden. Perhaps whatever it is put a sleeping spell on me.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A sleeping spell? You're mad, raving mad! This is no work of magic, just some creature that's gotten loose in our fields and wrecked two of them. You, boy, you watch tonight instead of your brother. If you can manage to keep yourself awake tonight and see what has destroyed our crops, i'll make your inheritance the equal of your brother's. Catch the beast and bring it to me, and I'll give you the lion's share. I expect to see no trampled wheat tonight!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The middle son nodded solemnly, and the eldest looked murderous. The youngest simply laughed and twisted his wheat stalks into a braided bracelet, slipping it onto his wrist with a flourish. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I found another spot in the woods to wait for night: I feared that Koschei would be waiting for me in the darkness, but I also feared being caught by the farmer or his sons. The day passed with agonizing slowness. Not even sleep helped pass the time, and the sun seemed almost to stand still in the sky. But finally, after hours had passed, it began to dip toward the horizon. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Taking up my watch at the edge of the woods, I saw the farmer's middle son preparing for his watch. His lamp was a blur of light as he walked out of the house. He had a blanket slung over his shoulder, and a flask at his side. He walked out into the middle of the fields and set up his small camp. He opened his flask and took a sip; I caught a whiff on the wind, and the acrid smell of alcohol burned my nose. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">As darkness fell and the moon rose behind me, I picked my way carefully through the trees at the edge of the forest. I knew that I could move silently enough that he would not hear me, if only Koschei did not appear. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But my faint hope was in vain. Before I had gone more than a few yards, I caught the smell of Koschei's magic and heard the thunder of hooves. I darted to the side just in time to avoid the iron hooves of the night-black horse, and could hear Koschei's laughter ringing through the night. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">This night was much like the one before it; no matter how hard I ran, or in which direction, Koschei and his dark horse were there, fire in their eyes and hair, and rank magic on their breath. Again, I spent the night in panicked flight, only to find myself back in the woods at morning, alone as soon as dawn spread across the sky. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Again, I slept, and again, I dreamed. This time I was not in my own garden, but in the beautiful gardens of the palace. When last I saw them, they were perfectly kept, groomed into acres of labyrinths that wove intricately together under the warm sun, green leaves overhead creating a delicate lattice. But now it too was overgrown, and the tracery of leaves had become a dark tangle, and the labyrinth was now a tunnel of foliage. I tried to find my way out, but was lost and could find no opening anywhere. I began to hear a small sound behind me, a sort of scuttling. I stopped to listen, but it fell silent, only moving when I did. I tried to keep my pace, but it slowly grew closer. I could heard the scraping sound of claws on dirt. I broke into a run, darting through the maze of overgrowth, leaves slashing at my face as I ran past. Up ahead, I could see one part of the labyrinth that was no completely overgrown; there was a faint patch of light coming from outside, though the vines were quickly growing over it. I ran toward it as fast as I could, but a wayward root jutting up from the earthen floor of the maze snagged my foot, and I fell face forward into the dust. Choking on the dirt, I raised my head and saw a pair of red eyes staring at me, and heard the sound of claws clicking together. I screamed, and found myself awake in the forest. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The next morning was much like the previous two. I watched the farmer berate his two oldest sons, each of whom accused the other of sabotaging his efforts, while the youngest lay out in the sun, barely acknowledging the events around him. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Neither of you two nitwits will inherit from me!” The farmer was almost shrieking now. “And if we do not stop this disaster, nothing will be left to inherit! There is one field left, just enough wheat to allow us to make a few meager loaves this winter and replant in the spring. If it fails, then we are lost. You, Ivanushka, you watch! You may be a fool, but you cannot possibly do worse than these two. If you succeed, I will make your inheritance equal to theirs: catch the beast, and you will receive the lion's share.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The boy simply nodded, eyes closed, enjoying the sun on his face. “Don't worry, I'll find out what it is.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The farmer looked almost despairing, and threw up his hands in surrender. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">When night neared, I watched the young one, Ivanushka, walk out to the middle of the fields. He carried no blanket nor flask, and whistled a tune as he walked. One by one, the stars came out overhead, and again I made to sneak around the edge of the forest to the open ground on the other side of the farmer's fields. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Step by careful step, I made my way, listening for Koschei at every moment and doing my best not to draw the attention of the young man in the middle of the fields. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">As I crossed a small stream, I felt a hot breath on my neck and heard the low laughter of Koschei. Bolting, I dashed for the fields, still yearning for the freedom of the plains that lay just beyond the waving stalks of wheat. I looked behind me to see if Koschei was following, and when I turned back, I caught a glimpse of red flame in the darkness. Stumbling, I turned and tried to run the way I had come, but felt a sudden tightening around my throat and was jolted to a halt. A rough rope was around my neck, and the other end was gripped in the tight grasp of the young man. The lantern in his hand cast a red glow, and he examined me by its light. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">So you are the fearful beast that has been destroying our crops,” he mused. </span>“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I've been much in need of a horse of my own, since we only have three, and my father and elder brothers will not let me have use of theirs.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I could stand it no longer. “Let me go,” I pleaded. “I am not accustomed to being closed in, and if you keep me in your stables my enemy will find me and destroy me.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The young man was surprised to hear a horse speak, I believe, but he did not drop the rope. “Well, now, there is something I never expected to hear. And what kind of enemy could a horse have that stable doors do not keep away? No, I think you are lying to me to keep yourself out of my bridle.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I have rarely hated anything more than I hated him at that moment. I wanted to crush his smug face with my hoof: what had any man to be so smug about? He would spend his life on this farm, grubbing a bare living out of the mud, and die before one of my kind would even notice that any time had passed at all. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But there was still the rope around my neck, and the sorcerer in the woods. “Let me go, for there is a creature in these woods whom you cannot understand. He wishes me ill, and there will be much trouble for all when he finds me. Let me go, and I will come to you when you are in need.'</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The young man laughed then, and with his free hand grabbed the rope where it encircled my neck. “You will come to me in my need, will you? But you see, if I put my bridle on you and take you home to my stable, you will still be there when I am in need. So you offer me nothing I cannot take, horse.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">My enemy will destroy me if you keep me penned in a stable,” I replied, temper flaring. “And then where will you be? No stable and no horse to keep in it. Let me go to the open plains, and run free. When you need me, simply come to the edge of your field and whistle. Call out “Silver-Brown, I have need of you, remember your promise!” I will come and give you any aid I can. Only let me go free and escape my enemy.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka looked as though he would refuse again, when a low snort sounded from the woods. Through the trees, we could see a faint hint of flame, then all was quiet and dark again. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">In the silence, I was sure that Ivanushka could hear the thunder of my heart. He was still for a moment, then in another had loosened the rope and pulled it over my head. “Then be gone with you, but come back when I call. Run fast, horse, escape your pursuer.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">In a flash I was gone, through the small paths between fields and out onto the steppe, running faster than I had been able to run in days. The wind tore through my mane and I could feel the grass cushioning every step I took. It was times like this when I truly appreciated the form of the horse that I had put on. The feeling of speed, of power, was intoxicating. The sun was warm, the wind cold, and it was a day made for running. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The ways of human power and government are strange to me. There are so many wicked kings, and foolish men who desire power in order to gain more power, and the people they oppress who want to be like them. I do not understand it, but I have seen these same things play out many times. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A few years from the time I met Ivanushka, the men of the villages began to catch and break more of the wild horses that I ran with. There had always been a few caught each year, but never in such numbers. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">One day, they came for the herd, and there were more of the men than ever. They carried ropes, nets, bridles and saddles, and they laughed and sang as they made their preparations. I could hear them singing and talking around their fires. The word in their mouths was that the Tsar was still heirless after many years, and there was no-one around to whom he wished to give his eldest daughter. In defiance of the tsardoms around him, he had decreed that he would choose a man from among the people to marry the tsarina and inherit his realm. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I have heard that he has created a game by which to chose his heir, Alyosha,” cried one voice above the din. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ah, that he has!” came the reply. “He has shut her up in a very tall tower. He is gathering all the eligible men, and anyone who wishes to win her must mount his horse, and jump high enough to take a ring from her finger. Whoever manages this feat will win the tsarina and inherit the tsar's lands.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">And you must catch the fastest of the horses here,” another voice added, “to even have a chance. No broken horse has the spirit to jump so high! Best to start off fresh.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The voices quieted then, and I could see the forms of the men come over the top of the hill as they began to hunt us. The horses were wary, but not ready to run yet. Slowly the men made their way around the herd, but I had already left them behind and slipped away into a nearby copse of trees. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Then, from a great distance, I heard the sound of a voice calling. “Silver-Brown, I have need of you!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I had feared this might happen, but I was bound by my oath, and with a heavy heart returned to the small farm where Ivanushka stood waiting. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Silver-Brown, I need you. The Tsar--”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I have heard about the foolishness of the Tsar,” I snapped. “And I suppose you wish for me to be your horse to help you win the princess.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He nodded. “My brothers are taking their horses and trying their hand, and I wish to do the same.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I sighed. “Ivanushka, you do not know the tsarina. You might be unsuited for each other. You do not even know if I can jump high enough to win her for you.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I cannot stay here!” he exclaimed, with a vehemence that surprised me. “My father keeps threatening to disinherit my older brothers, but he never will. Even if he did, what would I win but a muddy farm that barely produces even to survive each winter? No, horse, I want more than that. This is as good a way to find a way out as any.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Have it your way, then,” I said. “When is this contest to take place?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">In three days' time. It will take us a full day of journeying to reach the tsar's palace. My brothers expect me to come with them to tend their horses.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Then I will meet you at the tsar's palace in three days.” I turned and galloped off across the steppes. The idea of being ridden by a human, of being in service to such a creature, rankled. But I thought that if I helped him win his heart's desire, he might release me from my oath the sooner. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I had not seen Koschei or his night-dark horse since the last night on Ivanushka's farm, but he was always present to my mind and I was always wary of seeing him. Far away into the west I could see the smoke of war, and wondered if he were there, in the midst of blood and battle.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I spent the next two days plucking certain herbs that I knew. They would have been more powerful had I been able to pick them in Hyperborea, but they retained some of their virtues even here. When I finally set out for the Tsar's palace, I was stronger and fleeter of foot than ever before. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The palace was at the edge of a great city by a large lake. The palace was made of cold grey stone, and at the eastern end was a large tower soaring up toward the sky. A young woman waited in the window in the tower, her chestnut brown hair blowing in the breeze. She looked bored and resigned, and I wondered for a moment if she had a lover of her own. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The crowds were already gathered in the large green sward below the tower. Young men called up to the tsarina, who steadfastly ignored them. Horses neighed and whinnied from every tent, many of them straining to break their restraints. Many of them seemed to be fresh off the steppes, unbroken and wild. How many young men would break their necks when they were thrown against the rock of the tower, I wondered. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I heard Ivan's whistle then, and ran to his tent. His tent was a shabby affair, little more than a large blanket thrown over an assortment of sticks. His brothers had larger tents which stood proudly in the sun. their horses were tethered outside, and they were fine horses, to be sure. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I took a look at ivan, who had arrived in work clothes stained by labor and sweat, and ragged from use. “you cannot win the tsarina like that. If you wish to become the tsar's heir, you must look like a tsar's heir. But not here. Come with me, behind the tents.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">When we were away from the rest of the crowd, and hidden from any prying eyes, I lightly tapped his shoulder with my hoof, and cast a glamour on him. In a few moments, no-one would recognize him, least of all his brothers. His blond hair shone clean in the sun, and he had grown a fine beard to go with it. His clothes were now good linen and rich fur, dyed in the richest colors and cut perfectly to suit his figure. His boots were no longer poor ragged brown bits of black, but polished black and shining. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I do not have a saddle,” he said, almost apologetically, surveying his fine riding suit. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">You will not need one with me,” I assured him. “Just hold onto my mane and do not let go.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He swung up on my back, and we went out to see the tsar's crowd.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A great crowd had gathered at the foot of the tower. The tsar watched from a throne that had been brought out to the steps of the castle. The test was a cruel one. The window was up very high, but not so high as to be clearly impossible. Not one of the men could look at it without deceiving himself that he and his horse could perform the feat.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">One by one, the men spurred their horses on. The tsarina leaned down, a golden ring dangling from her fingertips. One by one, the men and horses fell short by several feet. Sometimes a young man would lose his grip and tumble to the ground. A few were thrown by their horses and did not rise again. Neither the tsar nor the tsarina seemed to notice. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It is time to end this farce,” I hissed into Ivanushka's ear, and he took his place in line. Soon it was our turn to try. I heard a ripple of whispers run through the crowd at the sight of this young man in his finery, and again felt disgust for the whole endeavor. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Hang on tightly,” I whispered. I ran quickly, covering the distance to the tower in a matter of seconds. With a quick jump, I leaped up toward the tsarina, my hooves clattering on the tower walls. “Now!” I called to Ivanushka. He reached up as high as he could, stretching toward the gold ring in the tsarina's fingers. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">But it was not enough, and we fell back to the earth, Ivan with empty hands. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The look of amusement had left the tsar's face, replaced by astonishment, and even the tsarina herself seemed surprised. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I turned and carried Ivan quickly away from the crowd. In a moment, his glamor fell away, and I had disguised myself as an ordinary work horse, like so many of the other horses present. “Quickly now, back into your tent. This will be the talk of the day, and your brothers will be suspicious if you are not here when they return. Say nothing of today; tomorrow, we will try again.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He nodded and ducked into his tent; I stood behind the small camp, waiting for the brothers to return. Shortly, I heard them coming up the road, discussing the events of the day. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">No, I tell you, I have never heard tell of this man. Surely we would know if there was a young count or duke of his quality in the tsardom.” The oldest had a voice that carried far, and I heard him before I saw either one. He had a dark brooding expression, and made his point earnestly. The middle son was quieter, and bore a smirk that set him apart from his brothers. He spoke softly, but seemed determined to pull apart anything anyone else said. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">What of it? Perhaps he is from a neighboring realm, or even a traveler from far away. The tsarina is lovely, and if all one has to do to win her and her dowry is to catch a simple ring, why would a traveler not want to take his chances?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I tell you, there is something afoot here, some magic that...but wait, here's our youngest brother, still dawdling in his tent! What is it, Ivanushka, you could not even be bothered to wake up in time to see the games?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka, who had been lounging half outside his tent, looked up sleepily. “Why go see grown men jumping about on horses like centaurs playing at leapfrog? No, I shall be content to sit in my tent and decide how to use my riches.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The middle son laughed scornfully, and kicked Ivanushka's hand with the toe of his boot. “Untill they decide to bestow great fortunes on those who sleep their lives away, you will remain as poor as you are now, foolish Ivanushka.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">That may be so, Grigori,” he replied with a studied yawn, “but then, you never know when someone might decide to do just that.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The two brothers mocked him for a little longer, trying to provoke him, but he returned each jab with cheerful indifference, and they finally went to their own tents and silence fell over the camp. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The next day, Ivanushka stayed in his tent until his brothers left to join the crowd. He then ran to find me, and I gave him the glamour of the previous day, having returned my coat and mane to their natural appearance hours prior. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">This time, he attracted the attention of everyone in the crowd as he rode in. They pointed at him, and asked him for his name and country, but he simply smiled, nodded, and kept his silence. The men had already begun trying again to reach the ring in the tsarina's hand, but were having no greater luck than they had the day before. Man after man reached and fell short. Again, there were many who were unhorsed, and some who fell against the stone of the tower with such force that they did not get up again. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Finally, when all the others had taken their turns, Ivanushka and I advanced toward the tower. Again I bid him to hold tightly to my mane, again I leaped with all my strength, and again he reached as high as he could. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">This time, his fingers brushed the ring, and I could hear the gasp of surprise that came from the tsarina. But it was not enough, and again we landed without the prize.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The short ride to his tent was silent, as we were both downcast from our failure. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka, now back in his rags and tatters, slid off my back and sat in front of his tent, face in his hands. I did not care whether he won the tsarina or not, but it wore ill with me that I could not complete such a simple task, and I was more determined than ever that we should succeed on the following day, the final day of the games. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">When I heard the two elder brothers coming up the road, I slipped away onto the open plains again. I had no desire to hear their foolish talk. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The moon shone clear, and the sky was cloudless and full of stars. I could see their reflections in the still water of the lake that bordered the palace. It was a beautiful night, and I was glad for it. In a rush of desire to be rid of the human world, I began to trot, then gallop. I did not sleep that night, but ran all night under the light of the moon and the stars, relishing the feel of the wind in my mane, and the strength of my legs as they carried me ever onward. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">When dawn came, I returned to Ivanushka's tent. In a moment, he was glamored in his finery again, and there was a look of determination in his face that I had never seen there before. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Again, we went forward to the palace. All along the road, people shouted for his attention, and applauded him. Old women threw flowers into our path, and young women threw their kerchiefs. He acknowledged each with a smile and a nod, but we did not stop, and were soon at the foot of the palace. There were no other competitors this day; instead, every man who had tried for the ring was standing in a circle, watching. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Feeling the eyes of all on us, I prepared myself for the final attempt. The tsar and tsarina did not look bored now, but the tsar was leaning forward in eager anticipation, and the tsarina could not take her eyes off Ivanushka in his finery. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I gathered myself for the last time, and dashed forward. In another moment, my hooves clattered on the palace stones, and I felt Ivan reaching up, reaching higher than he ever had. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A gasp went up from the crowd, then a deafening cheer. I caught a gleam of gold out of the corner of my eye, and knew that Ivanushka had captured the ring. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">As soon as my hooves hit the grass, he leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Quickly! Run, get me out of here!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I leaped forward, and began the dash back to his tent. When we arrived, he slid off my back rapidly, and reached for one of his tattered shirts. “Quickly, make me a peasant again.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I removed the glamour with a touch of my hoof. “What are you doing, Ivanushka?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I want everyone to know that it is Ivanushka the dreamer, the layabout, who has won the tsarina's hand.” He slipped the tsarina's ring onto his little finger, and wrapped his hand in a bandage ripped from his shirt. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Now, my brothers will be back soon, you'd best hide before they recognize you. Surely everyone will have taken note of the marvelous horse that the handsome young man was riding.” I agree, and walked behind the tent, casting the glamor on myself as I went. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I heard Ivanushka's brother coming up the road, calling to him. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka, you lazybones! You should have come today—the mysterious visitor claimed the ring, but ran off before the tsar could give his daughter's hand to him!” The eldest was flushed with excitement. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The middle brother looked grimmer than usual. “Yes, at the last moment, he finally managed to reach high enough to snatch the ring, but no-one has any idea where he has gone. The Tsar is holding a feast in three days' time, to celebrate the engagement of the tsarina, and it is hoped that the young man's identity will be revealed then.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Well,” said Ivanushka lazily. “that sounds like quite a lot of excitement. It's a very good thing I didn't go, or I'd be far too tired to enjoy my afternoon nap.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Grigori made a sound of disgust and entered his tent, followed by Pyotr, the eldest. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">For three days, I had the freedom of the open plains, though I kept near the tsar's palace. Ivanushka did not summon me, but I could not help but be curious about his plans. I did not understand why he would continue another day in rags when he could be clothed in gold and have the tsarina's hand in marriage as soon as he wished it. But if that was what he wished, it made no difference to me. Let him have his will. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">At the end of the three days, I heard his familiar call, and found my way to where he waited under the shadow of a tree at the edge of the palace grounds. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ah, Silver-Brown,” he greeted me quietly with a smile. “This is the last time I will need you, but I must ask you for another favor. I am going to the Tsar's feast as the layabout Ivanushka, but I intend to become the handsome young man who took the ring from the hand of the tsarina. I will need you for that transformation one more time, and then I swear to you, I will release you from your oath.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka, I am bound to you by my oath. You need not ply me with any promises. If you call, I am bound to appear. Go, claim your tsarina.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">From where I stood, I could see him go up the path to the palace gate. The guards made as if to detain him for a moment, but he was joined by his brothers who reassured the soldiers that, appearance aside, he was not a wayward beggar looking for a handout. The three entered into the palace; I could hear the sounds of feasting and singing drifting out onto the night winds. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Hours passed, and then through the night air I heard the sound: “Silver-Brown, I have need of you!” With a heavy heart, I went through the palace gates, so quickly the guards could not stop me, and galloped into the banquet room. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">It was a strange scene. The Tsar sat at one end of the room, looking confused and more than a little perturbed by my entrance. The guests sat in various states of satiation and drunkeness, looking to see what would happen next. Pyotr, Grigori, and Ivanushka sat in the middle of the room. The tsarina, bringing a cup of honey around to each man to sip from, was holding Ivanushka's bandaged hand with a look of recognition on her face. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanuska looked around, and spoke loudly enough to be heard by the whole room. “I am Ivanushka, son of Mikhail, and I am here to claim the hand of the tsarina.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">By what right!” burst the Tsar, standing up. “You come here in your rags, summon a horse into my palace, and make yourself familiar with my daughter, yet you give us no proof!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">No, Papa, the proof is here,” exclaimed the tsarina, speaking for the first time. Now that she no longer looked bored or angry, her face looked quite beautiful. She held up Ivanushka's hand and quickly unwrapped the bandage. On his little finger, the gold ring gleamed.</span> </p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">See, Papa, he bears my ring! And even in his rags, I recognize him!” Her eyes shone, and she clasped Ivanushka's hand. He glanced at me, and I quickly tapped him with my hoof, once again restoring the glamor, and turning him into the handsome young man that everyone remembered from the palace green earlier. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">A shout went up from the gathered crowd, and more than a few fell off their benches under the combined effect of the surprise and the beer they had been downing all night. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">In the commotion, I slipped back outside. The night was cold, with a few clouds scudding across the sky. I could see faint ribbons of color rippling across the sky; it was a pale imitation of the curtains that shot through the sky in the Summer Realm, but it reminded me of it. I found it both comforting and heart-breaking. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">The sound of footsteps behind me broke me out of my reverie. I turned to see Ivanushka standing there. He smiled and stepped up beside me. “I thought you might be here. I wanted to thank you. I think I will be very happy with the tsarina, and even if the marriage is nothing to boast of, seeing the looks on my brothers' faces was reward enough to last a lifetime.” He chuckled, then grew serious once more. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I meant what I said about releasing you from your oath, horse. You are obviously more than a simple horse, and it would be wrong of me to keep you here.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I turned to meet his gaze. He seemed a little sad, but I could detect no falseness in him. “you are giving up the right to call on a creature that can summon magic and glamor at will, simply because you do not think it right? Perhaps humans are more noble than I gave you credit for.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">He reached into his coat and drew out a package wrapped in fine linen. “The tsarina wanted me to give this to my steed. I told her that my horse was simply on loan from elsewhere, but she insisted.” He pulled back the cloth and revealed a bridle, made of the finest silver, and set with many sapphires and other stones. It was a thing of beauty, but I recoiled. Never in my horse form had I worn bridle or saddle, and I detested the thing.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka smiled again, and wrapped the bridle back up. “Do not fear, I'm not going to put it on you. You are free, that is final. But she did give it for you, and it is yours. Do with it what you will.” He set it on the ground, and turned to go. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">I looked at the bridle, and felt the hold of my oath slip free. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the form of the horse slipped away, leaving me in my original form, clothed in robes of rich brown and fine silver. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“<span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">Ivanushka,” I called to him quietly. He turned and gaped in surprise. “Thank you,” I said, bowing ever so slightly. “You are a good man, Ivanushka. Go home to your tsarina.” I slipped into the shadows of the night and hid myself: he looked for several minutes but I know how to escape discovery when I so wish it. He might have looked for a hundred years and found no more than shadows. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">When he finally went back inside, I set out across the plains, relishing the feel of the thick grass on my feet for the first time in many years. The stars shone brightly overhead.</span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">There is a tree, not far from the gate into the Summer Realm. I believe that I am the only one who knows of it. At its base, there is a papery roll of bark that peels back to reveal a hollow in the tree. I often used it for storing items when I visited the human world. When I next passed by that area, I made a visit to the tree, and secured the bridle inside. </span></p> <p style="margin: 12px 0px 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Verdana';">There is a tree, not far from the gate into the Summer Realm. I believe that I am the only one who knows of it. At its base, there is a papery roll of bark that peels back to reveal a hollow in the tree. I often used it for storing items when I visited the human world. When I next passed by that area, I made a visit to the tree, and secured the bridle inside. </span><br /></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-85731714672754857112010-11-04T23:26:00.000-07:002010-11-04T23:30:40.923-07:00Prologue: Vasilissa the ProudIt seemed like nothing at the time: that was why I was cast out from my homeland, and why everything else came to pass. Great evils may be done and be forgiven because they were done in service of an end, but the great evils that are done without thought are unforgivable. If one notices that one has done wrong, it may be mended, but if one cannot see the wrong?<br /><br /><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">My name is Vasilissa, and I am the last queen of Hyperborea. I have been an exile, a madwoman, and many other things, as well. I have seen my land destroyed in the fires of Hell, and lived to see a spring that I feared would never come again. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">My story starts, as all stories start, with the land. Hyperborea is a land of vast meadows, perilous mountains, and clear ice cold rivers. During the spring, the grass is cool and green, and it grows thicker than the most luxurious Persian carpet. The fall was mild and pleasant, with warm days and cool nights. Winter never touched us, except to dust the mountains with snow. And summer…oh, the summers sometimes lasted a hundred years, with each warm night more perfect than the last. The days were bright and golden, with the heat of the sun glinting off the rivers, and the leaves almost glowing green. The nights were warm, and we often slept under the stars instead of in our rooms in the palace. The ribbons of colored light streamed down from the north, and covered the entire sky with luminescence. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Much of what my land is like cannot be told here: there are no words in human language for the worlds beyond Man’s. To men, who could not enter our realm if they were not invited, the land was harsh, rocky, and bitterly cold. In the far north of their world, it was locked in almost perpetual winter, and the inhabitants had to scramble for a mere existence. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I often saw them, when I was young: peasants, working themselves into exhaustion to provide for their children, grubbing small dirty potatoes out of the ground. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I was merely curious about them when I was very young, but as I grew I came to despise them. The sight of their dirt-stained faces, even from a distance, disgusted me. My robes were always clean and bright, and suited to our warm climate, while they bundled themselves in rags and scraps. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Many of us, especially the younger ones, enjoyed playing tricks on them: tugging at their rags when they couldn’t see us, or hiding a sack of potatoes. Harmless, for the most part—not kind, but harmless. Most of us grew out of such pranks, and the peasants cursed us for a moment but considered us simply a part of the world. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">But it is so easy, with mostly harmless things, to take them too far. A little slip of the tongue, meant in jest, becomes a knife in the heart of a friend. A little tear, left too long, becomes so large it ruins a gown. And a little trick, pushed too hard, destroys a man’s mind.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">He was beautiful: a peasant boy newly grown to manhood, and hard of body from laboring in the fields. His hair was almost as golden as mine, and he could often be heard singing a tune as he worked. Many of my people would stop to watch and listen.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I was also young and beautiful, though I had been so for hundreds of years, and would be so for hundreds or thousands more. Perhaps it all went to my head; even now, I am not certain. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I became more and more daring in my trips into the world of man; I no longer bothered to hide myself, wore my most dazzling gowns, and sang without bothering to glamor it into the sound of bird song. My companions were amused at first, but as I dared more and more, their amusement ceased. Whispers began spreading. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">One day I was walking down by the river, one of the few green spots for miles around. It was spring in the human world, and though the trees and grass were beginning to show green sprouts again, the air was still cold and the wind sharp. The young man had come to the river with a barrow, filling it with large smooth stones for the repair of a wall. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Even when my kind wear no disguise, we are not always easily seen. We are so much a part of the land that we can be indistinguishable from it. But I very much wanted to be seen. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I heard his voice before I saw him. He was singing a song that had no melody, apart from what he chose to give it at any given moment. It was tuneless, but not unpleasant. He came into view through the trees, and began loading the rocks into the barrow. For a moment, he did not notice me, until he saw my wavering reflecting in the water of the river. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">His song stopped, and he slowly looked up. It must have been the first time he saw a Hyperborean fully; the look on his face was one of sheer astonishment. I let a smile play across my lips, and turned back through the woods, throwing him a glance over my shoulder. He looked hesitant to follow, but when the first notes of my song reached his ears, he stepped forward without hesitation. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">My people have the gift of words: men call it magic, but we have no such term. I wove my words and will into the song, calling him ever forward, and deepening his enchantment with my beauty. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">In an hour’s time, we had come to the stone archway that was the gate into my home; I quickly spoke the words to open the gate, and the warm air of my realm poured through the gate. I could feel the warm Hyperborean sun, and almost taste the juice of the apples ripening on the trees in the orchard that stood near the gate. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I looked back to see what effect the breath of summer had on the young man. The breeze from the orchard ruffled his hair, and I saw his nostrils flare to catch the scent, like a horse near fresh water. His eyes were wide, and full of the light of the summer sun. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I stepped through the gate, continuing my song, calling him forward. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to the familiar woods he had come from. I am sure that he had heard the stories all of his life: men and women lured into the Other Realm, and disappearing forever. Such things had not happened in a very long time; but it had happened a few times, and the stories of old women have carried a kernel of the truth down through the years. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">My words wove into the song again, singing of warm nights, sun-ripened fruit ready for the plucking, and a summer that lasted a lifetime. He stepped forward again, slowly at first, but then moving more surely until both feet were over the border. He turned his face to look up at the sun that now shone warmly on his face, bringing color to his wind-nipped cheeks. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">He turned to me, as if seeing me for the first time. And truly, it must have been a sight, for I was not only beautiful, but aware of my own beauty. In the years since then, I have learned to appreciate the plain honest beauty of the peasant women of the villages, but when I was not so tired of my mirrors as I have become, I despised them for their sun-burned cheeks and roughly plaited hair. I stood before the young man in robes of silk and fine linen, in the deepest crimsons and blue, with gold braided into the garments and gleaming in the sunshine. My hair was like a golden curtain, falling around my knees and catching the light, and my skin as pale and smooth as milk. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">He followed wherever I led, and we spent the summer in the orchards, listening to the song of the women who sing at the palace, and dancing under the stars at night when the curtains of color were drawn rippling across the sky. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Everywhere I went there were whispers; I could hear them talking about me, and my daring to lure my young man into Hyperborea, but I chose not to listen. I was not the first to do so, and he would have had no such life of ease with his own people. I even persuaded myself that I had done him a grand favor, bringing him to live in a land unsuited for him, a land not his own. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">But slowly I began to tire of it. He was out of time, out of the rhythm by which our life moved. He began to long for a season other than summer; he only wanted to talk about snow, and the warmth of a fire in a cold cabin, and the winter festivals. He no longer appreciated the taste of the summer fruit, or the dances under the stars, or the songs of the palace. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Finally, I decided I no longer wished to see him. One day, while walking in the orchard, he began again to speak of the joys of winter, and while he was thus engrossed, I began weaving our path closer and closer to the gate. Then, with a quick push, he was through into the human world; without me at his side, he had no way back through into the Summer Realm. For a moment, he simply looked around in surprise, trying to understand what had happened; he could not see me, though I watched through the gate. Then the cold hit him; it was winter in the world of men, and he was still dressed for the summer of my country. He began to shiver and wrapped his arms around himself as if to keep the cold at bay. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">He opened his mouth and began to call for me, but I was no longer listening; my attention had been caught by something in the woods beyond him. At first it was just a sound, much like any other sound in the forest. But I knew it at once, for every member of my race knows the sound by heart.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Scrape. Scrape. Brush. Crack. Scrape.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">It is the sound of an iron mortar being driven rapidly through the trees, driven onward by a pestle the size of a tree. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">The Baba Yaga was coming.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I turned quickly and strengthened the charms holding shut the gate between the worlds, and stepped back quickly so that the grandmother of all witches would not sense my presence. She had never been able to enter our world, but she had tried. She had roamed the forest for time beyond memory, perhaps since the beginning of the world. Some said she was the first wife of the first man, furious that she had been replaced after defying the god whom created her. I have no knowledge of such things, but she was a dark and twisted thing, purely malevolent, with no drop of kindness or compassion in her heart. Though she had never set foot in our realm, we knew that she might someday find the key to the door, and then all our happiness would be gone forever. The Baba Yaga brings nothing but death and madness.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I heard the scraping continue faintly through the shielding charm, and held my breath until all was silent again. When I was sure the Baba Yaga was no longer near, I ran quickly back to my own garden, and walked tending my flowers until my heart ceased to pound.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">It is difficult to be worried for long in the heart of the Summer Realm, and soon my mind returned to its usual care-free state. But this was not to last: though I did not yet know it, everything had changed forever. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">________________________________</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I woke the next morning, not quite at peace. I could still hear the scraping of the Yaga’s pestle against the ground, and I went to check the Gate again. The morning was as almost every morning in the Summer Realm: cool, green, the air lightly scented with night-blooming flowers, and dew dripping from every blade of grass. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">No-one else was awake yet, and I moved silently through the gardens. I reached the Gate, and reassured myself that all was as it should be. I turned to go, and found my way barred by two tall figures. I knew them instantly, though I had never seen either one. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">There were tales told about the Lawkeepers. They were rarely needed, but when one of our number did some evil or wrong, they would appear, and settle the matter. Their word was irrevocable. I do not know where they come from, or who sends them, but their power to enact their pronouncements has always been inescapable. They wore long robes of crimson, and wings of fire covered their eyes, though they did not seem to be blind. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">They motioned to me to step through the Gate, and though I still feared the Baba Yaga, I obeyed instantly, wondering what had caused them to show themselves to me. I could not think of any of my people who had been wronged, and I myself had scarcely seen anyone during the summer season, much less caused harm. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">My foot touched the cold snows of the human world, and I shivered, hoping that the Lawgivers would not take long. My favorite flower vine was blooming and I hoped to be back in my own garden soon to pluck a few of the best blossoms. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">One of the Lawkeepers pointed a shining hand into the woods, and I followed his gesture. There, huddled under a tree, was a pathetic figure. Hunched and grey, it looked like a man, but only just. His arms and legs were gnarled and twisted by age, and there was no light of reason in his eyes. His beard hung low upon his chest, matted with mud, twigs, and his own saliva. His fingers were rough and the nails looked as though he’d been rooting in the ground for his food. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The eyes,</span> I heard a whisper behind me, <span style="font-style: italic;">look into his eyes, Vasilissa.</span><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I took a step closer and looked into the depths of his madness. And then I saw it. Deep down, past the years and the suffering he had endured, was the remnant of a man, a vigorous young man with eyes as blue as the cornflowers in my garden. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">“But…” I found myself saying, “he was just a young man yesterday. Has so much time passed in one night of the Summer Realm?”</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;">It is not the age which has done this to him, </span>one of the Lawkeepers said, <span style="font-style: italic;">though several human years have indeed passed since you threw him out of Hyperborea. When you first found him, he was a man, suited to his own place and time. But after a long summer in the Summer Realm, he grew soft: it is not a place for the children of men to live, and you knew this. Yet you still tired of him, and cast him out in the middle of winter. More, when you heard the Grandmother of Witches coming, you did nothing to help him, but left him to her mercy, and she has none. She took him as her servant for three days, and his mind was shattered. His village could not withstand his ravings, and let him go back out to wander the woods, always looking for the Gate into the eternal warmth that he once knew.</span> </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I was repulsed; the handsome young man was entirely replaced by this creature of madness and filth. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;">This is your doing, daughter of the earth, </span>it continued. <span style="font-style: italic;">You might have had compassion on him and restrained yourself to the pranks and tricks allowed to your kind. You might have had pity on him and returned him to his own world after a single night in yours. You might even have had enough thought to send him back during a more amenable season of his own place, that he might have had time to find his own place again. Barring even that, you might have offered him protection from the Yaga: such is the sort of thing all forms of life owe each other in the face of that which destroys. But you would not even lift a finger to do this. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I began to feel the biting cold of the human world sink into my bones, and stood stunned as they made their pronouncement. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;">For this, daughter of the earth,</span> they intoned, <span style="font-style: italic;">raising their hands to lay the doom on me, you are banished from your home. You must learn to live by the labor of your hands, learn what it is to fear cold and starvation and death. You may find your home again when you have learned these things, but not before then. Feel cold, feel pain, feel hunger and want. Feel the hard earth beneath your feet. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">At that moment, the cold sank deep into my bones, and I cried out in surprise, anger, and pain, dropping to my knees in the snow. When I looked up, they were gone, and I was alone with the madman. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">Stumbling, I ran back toward the Gate, but I could not find it. In the clearing where I knew it had stood, I found only a single white tree, barren and dead. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">I was overwhelmed by all of the sensations I had never known before: the pain of sharp sticks pricking my bare feet, the cold of winter, and the wetness of my gown where I had fallen to my knees in the snow. My mind whirled with confusion, but though I could no longer find the Gate, I could still feel the magic I knew deep within me. It came to me with no ease, ripping its way out of my soul, but I summoned it with every ounce of strength I had. </p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;">In a moment, I ran from the forest in a new form: a strong, powerful body, fast as the wind. I ran for as long as I could, leaving only a trail of hoof prints behind me.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></p>Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-40940752123723027682010-10-01T14:12:00.000-07:002010-10-01T14:13:17.122-07:00Madame BlavatskyBlavatsky is a central figure in Theosophy and New Age, and created a mythology centered around a Hyperborean race. This section is a bit long, but worth it for understanding some of the newer ideas surrounding Hyperborea.<br /><br />According to her own story as told to a later biographer, she spent the years 1848 to 1858 traveling the world. She visited Egypt, France, Canada, England, South America, Germany, Mexico, India, Greece and especially Tibet, where she studied for two years with the ascetics, whom she called Brothers. She had been initiated for theosophical work, while in Tibet. She returned to Russia in 1858 and went first to see her sister Vera, a young widow living in Rugodevo, a village which she had inherited from her husband.<br /><br />It was in 1873 that she emigrated to New York City. Impressing people with her professed psychic abilities, she was spurred on to continue her mediumship. Mediumship (among other psychical and spiritual sciences of the time), based upon the belief known as Spiritualism which began at Rochester, NY, was a widely popular and fast-spreading field upon which Blavatsky based her career. Throughout her career she claimed to have demonstrated physical and mental psychic feats which included levitation, clairvoyance, out-of-body projection, telepathy, and clairaudience. Another claim of hers was materialization, that is, producing physical objects out of nothing, though in general, her interests were more in the area of 'theory' and 'laws' rather than demonstration.<br /><br />While living in New York City, she founded the Theosophical Society in September 1875, with Henry Steel Olcott, William Quan Judge and others. Blavatsky wrote that all religions were both true in their inner teachings and problematic or imperfect in their external conventional manifestations. Her writings connecting esoteric spiritual knowledge with new science may be considered to be the first instance of what is now called New Age thinking.<br /><br />Madame Blavatsky became ill with an infected leg. She claimed to have undergone a "transformation" during her illness which inspired her to found the Theosophical Society. In a letter dated June 12, 1875, she described her recovery, explaining that she dismissed the doctors and surgeons who threatened amputation. She is quoted as saying "Fancy my leg going to the spirit land before me!", and had a white dog sleep across her leg by night.<br /><br />Blavatsky and Olcott took five precepts at the Wijayananda Viharaya located in Galle on May 19, 1880. On that day Olcott and Blavatsky were formally acknowledged as Buddhists, although Olcott noted that they had previously declared themselves Buddhists, while still living in America. During their time in Ceylon, Olcott and Blavatsky strove to revive Buddhism within the country.<br /><br />Sometime around December 1880, while at a dinner party with a group including A. O. Hume and his wife, she is claimed to have been instrumental in causing the materialization of Mrs Hume's lost brooch.<br /><br />By 1882 the Theosophical Society became an international organization, and it was at this time that she moved the headquarters to Adyar near Madras, India (now Chennai). The society headquartered in Adyar for some time.<br /><br />Blavatsky later went to Germany for a while, in between she stayed at Ostend where she could easily meet her English friends. She wrote a big part of the Secret Doctrine in Ostend and there she claimed a revelation during an illness telling her to continue the book at any cost. Finally she went to England. A disciple put her up in her own house in England, where she lived until the end of her life.<br /><br />In August, 1890 she formed the "Inner Circle" of 12 disciples.<br />Blavatsky died in her home at 19 Avenue Road, St Johns Wood, London, on May 8, 1891. Her last words in regard to her work were: "Keep the link unbroken! Do not let my last incarnation be a failure." Her body was cremated at Woking Crematorium on May 11; one third of her ashes were sent to Europe, one third with William Quan Judge to the United States, and one third to India where her ashes were scattered in the Ganges River. May 8 is celebrated by Theosophists, and it is called White Lotus Day.<br /><br />Well-known and controversial during her life, Blavatsky was influential on spiritualism and related subcultures. She wrote prolifically, publishing thousands of pages, and debate continues about her claims.<br /><br />Throughout much of Blavatsky's public life, her work drew harsh criticism from some of the learned authorities of her day. Her critics pronounced her claim of the existence of masters of wisdom to be utterly false, and accused her of being a charlatan, a false medium, evil, a spy for the Russians, a smoker of cannabis, a spy for the English, a racist, and a falsifier of letters. Most of the accusations remain undocumented even today.<br /><br />H. P. Blavatsky herself said, that one of the main reasons for the many attacks on her and on the Theosophical Society, which she was a co-founder of was:<br />"You must bear in mind how many powerful adversaries we have aroused ever since the formation of our Society. As I just said, if the Theosophical movement were one of those numerous modern crazes, as harmless at the end as they are evanescent, it would be simply laughed at― as it is now by those who still do not understand its real purport ― and left severely alone. But it is nothing of the kind. Intrinsically, Theosophy is the most serious movement of this age; and one, moreover, which threatens the very life of most of the time-honoured humbugs, prejudices, and social evils of the day ― those evils which fatten and make happy the upper ten and their imitators and sycophants, the wealthy dozens of the middle classes, while they positively crush and starve out of existence the millions of the poor. Think of this, and you will easily understand the reason of such a relentless persecution by those others who, more observant and perspicacious, do see the true nature of Theosophy, and therefore dread it."<br />Blavatsky unfortunately called the current level of human evolution "Aryan", based on Indian culture, which, although from her description comprised the entire human race, has been twisted by some to mean only Northern Europeans. Blavatsky argued that all humanity descended from seven root races, with the fifth one being the Aryan race.<br /><br />Blavatsky argued that humanity had descended from a series of "Root Races", naming the fifth root race (out of seven) the Aryan Race. She thought that the Aryans originally came from Atlantis and described the Aryan races with the following words:<br />"The Aryan races, for instance, now varying from dark brown, almost black, red-brown-yellow, down to the whitest creamy colour, are yet all of one and the same stock -- the Fifth Root-Race -- and spring from one single progenitor, (...) who is said to have lived over 18,000,000 years ago, and also 850,000 years ago -- at the time of the sinking of the last remnants of the great continent of Atlantis."<br /><br />Blavatsky claimed that The Secret Doctrine was based on a lost Atlantean religious work, which she said was called The Stanzas of Dzyan, supposed to be the first book ever written. The Secret Doctrine works as a commentary on the Stanzas: it is also their only source. According to the Stanzas as revealed by Mme Blavatsky, the first humans (or ‘First Root Race’) had existed only on an astral plane, living in the “Imperishable Land” at the North Pole. The Second Root Race also lived in the arctic, on the lost continent of Hyperborea. Like most other ‘lost continents’, Hyperborea broke up and sank, in this case beneath the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean. The third Root Race comprised the Lemurians. They were bandy-legged, egg-laying hermaphrodite apes (some with four arms, some with eyes in the back of their head), 3.7 m (twelve feet) tall. They were contemporary with dinosaurs, which they kept as domestic animals. When the Lemurians discovered sex, their fate was sealed and the continent followed Hyperborea in sinking beneath the waves. The offspring of the Lemurians’ sexual adventures was the fourth Root Race: fully human Atlanteans, guided into human form by adepts from Venus. After the drowning of Atlantis, the fifth Root Race – modern humans – evolved; the sixth Root Race is about to evolve in North America, while the seventh will one day develop in South America.Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-2451974896833520092010-10-01T12:13:00.000-07:002010-10-01T12:16:27.500-07:00background on Hyperborea<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CELIZAB%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CELIZAB%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" 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style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Here are some of the elements of the Hyperborean mythos that I intend to use in my novel. This is pieced together from Wikipedia, along with some of my own observations and notes about other sources. If you want the full Wikipedia version of the Hyperborea info, it’s here. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyperborea" target="_blank"><span style="">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/<wbr>Hyperborea</span></a></span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The Greeks thought that Boreas, the North Wind, lived in Thrace, and that therefore Hyperborea was an unspecified region in the northern lands that lay beyond Scythia (Russia). Their land, called Hyperborea or Hyperboria — "beyond the Boreas" — was perfect, with the sun shining twenty-four hours a day, which - if true - suggests a possible location within the Arctic Circle. The Greeks came up with the idea that north countries being cold was due to the cold breath of Boreas, the North Wind. Therefore, should one be able to get "beyond Boreas" one would find a warm and sunny land.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Never the Muse is absent</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">from their ways: lyres clash and flutes cry</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">and everywhere maiden choruses whirling.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Neither disease nor bitter old age is mixed</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">in their sacred blood; far from labor and battle they live.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">- Pindar, Tenth Pythian Ode; translated by Richmond Lattimore.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Reaching such exotic lands is never easy; Pindar cautioned:</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">neither by ship nor on foot would you find</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">the marvellous road to the assembly of the Hyperboreans.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Along with Thule, Hyperborea was one of several terrae incognitae to the Greeks and Romans, where Pliny and Herodotus, as well as Virgil and Cicero, reported that people lived to the age of one thousand and enjoyed lives of complete happiness. Also, the sun was supposed to rise and set only once a year in Hyperborea; which would place it above or upon the Arctic Circle, or, more generally, in the arctic polar regions.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">H.P. Blavatsky, Rene Guenon and Julius Evola all shared the belief in the Hyperborean, polar origins of humankind and a subsequent solidification and devolution. According to these esoterists, Hyperborea was the Golden Age polar center of civilization and spirituality; humankind does not rise from the ape, but progressively devolves into the apelike condition as it strays physically and spiritually from its mystical otherworldly homeland in the Far North, succumbing to the demonic energies of the South Pole, the greatest point of materialization.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <p><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">In the Hellboy universe, which is one of my greatest inspirations, Hyperborea is a prehistoric kingdom of powerful beings (possibly distinct from humans—I’m not sure that Mignola is ever clear on that) with incredibly advanced magics and technology. They are brought down by corruption from within: in BPRD: The Hollow Earth, it is revealed that some of the Hyperboreans went elsewhere, leaving the corrupt ones behind. These corrupted beings created a slave race of goblin-like creatures, who eventually overthrew their makers, but can still be harmed by the semi-magical <a href="http://livingbetweenwednesdays.com/wp-content/uploads/image/Covers/Dark%20Horse/edward%20grey%201.jpg">Hyperborean blades</a>. (This is also a major theme in Edward Grey: Witchfinder).</span><o:p></o:p></p> Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4847141522950822125.post-2449637941223846822010-09-30T13:11:00.001-07:002010-09-30T13:16:12.741-07:00A New Story Begins...Well, in a month, anyway!<br /><br />Yes, that's right, <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org">National Novel Writing Month</a> is only 31 short days away! I have participated every year since 2004 (this will be my 7th NaNo!) and have completed the word count goal for all but one of those years. November is the highlight of my year--nothing beats the insane rush of noveling!<br /><br />This year's story: I'm returning to the fantasy genre with the epic tale of Vasilissa, princess of Hyperborea! Now, if you know your mythology, you may already know some of the stories of Vasilissa and Hyperborea, but I'll post some of the main ones here for those who are unfamiliar with them. You won't need to know them to understand the story I'm telling, but they'll be there for reference if you want them.<br /><br />It's almost time!Joihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07757013732505715189noreply@blogger.com0