by C S Vass
“You don’t truly have it,” he said.
“I do.”
“Then you would never give it away.”
“I would if it was a choice between myself and everyone I know dying. If that was my choice, I would part with the oil.”
Godwin’s mind was racing. Such a treasure. To think that it would be found in this strange backwoods part of the world.
“Let me see it.”
The old woman cackled. The sound reminded Godwin of a tree falling. “I’m no fool.”
“Neither am I. How am I to believe you?”
“Because of your eyes. Not the silver. I know what eyes like yours have seen. I know what you have done. I think you would be a greater terror to my village than any demon if we were to betray you.”
“Godwin, you can’ really be thinking about this.”
“Tell me one thing,” Godwin said. “The oil is mine if I remove the terror plaguing your village. That is the only term of our agreement?”
“It is.”
He nodded.
“Godwin, what in hell’s name are you thinking?” Yaura asked.
“Yes,” Robert put in. “We should really be thinking about getting out of here, not staying longer.”
“Consider it done,” Godwin said to the old woman. “Whether or not my comrades here want to help. I’ll find this rusalka. I’ll end the terror that has befallen your people. And then I’ll come for what’s mine.”
Chapter 17
“You’re a bloody moron.”
Yaura had accosted Godwin with such sentiments all morning. Robert had disappeared with the keg after the old woman left and not come out since. Yaura had taken the opposite approach and insisted on following Godwin everywhere he went throughout the house and into the nearby woods. She berated him the entire time.
“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” Godwin said.
“You’re risking all of our lives for some stupid oil,” Yaura said in disbelief. “We’re supposed to go to Unduyo.”
“I’m supposed to go to Unduyo,” Godwin corrected as he examined an odd shrub with purple leaves. “Kanjo was my assignment, and the only one who has to answer for abandoning it is me. You’re along for the trip. Well, this trip is taking a detour.”
“For oil!”
“For bagiennik oil!” Godwin rose. “Do you know how rare and valuable that is? Utilized properly a few drops of it can boil a small river. There are stories from the Cult of Jericho of mages who were able to remove tumors, restore nerve function, even delay death itself!”
They went on like that for a long while.
The sun glowed dirty yellow through the glossy snow-covered pines. Godwin searched the area around the village for ingredients.
“Have you ever even dealt with a rusalka?” Yaura asked.
“No. Have you?”
“No. Do you know why?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Because rusalkas are spirits of vengeance. When a village is haunted by one, they usually just take the murderer, throw him in a lake with the demon, and the problem takes care of itself.”
“Be sure to let me know if you see any murderers.”
“You’re being foolish!” she huffed. “Without the actual killer, there’s no way to disperse the creature. At best we’ll be drawn into its lair, and that’s…”
She went on for a time but Godwin wasn’t listening. He had lit a small fire and carefully placed an alembic on top of it.
“Why not just run your sword through the beast?”
Robert approached them, bleary-eyed and with the look of a man who had not slept the night before.
“There’s no point,” Yaura said, more gently. “Even if we strike it down, dismember the body, and burn the remains, the spirit will linger. She’ll eventually take over some lesser creature, then another, until she works her way up to whichever unfortunate woman stumbles across her first.”
“How horrid. Godwin, what are you doing?”
“Working,” Godwin said, annoyed.
“What are you doing with those flowers?” Robert approached to get a look at Godwin crushing lavandula in a mortar.
“I was fortunate to find these flowers,” he said. “They’re rich in linalyl acetate and linalool, which will induce a calming effect.” He had hoped the potion jargon would turn Robert off of any more questions, but the easterner approached, fascinated.
Yaura snorted. “An excellent plan. Perhaps we can put the rusalka to sleep.”
Godwin sighed. “Precisely.”
“Ah yes,” Robert said sagely. “We’ll put the demon to sleep and then you can tie it up. Bind it in chains and lock it in some basement where it won’t harm a soul.”
“Not even close,” Godwin said. “Now back up. You’re crowding my thinking space.”
Godwin took one of the vials from inside of his cloak. It was much smaller than the others, and the stopper was a piece of silver fashioned into the shape of a human skull.
“A pity to have to use you,” he said to the skull. “But if it gets me some bagiennik oil, then it’s a trade I’m happy to make.”
He uncorked the vial and turned it upside-down into the alembic, the contents of which immediately turned a violent shade of red.
“Ah, what is that?”
“N, N, dimethyltriptamine,” Godwin said. “Not that the name will mean anything to you.”
Robert looked on, fascinated, but it was Yaura who gasped. Godwin smirked.
“You didn’t? What are you thinking? I mean…DMT? Really?”
“I’m trying to work here,” he said without turning.
“What are you doing?” Yaura continued. “Maybe you’re losing your touch. That’s going to be worthless. Totally devoid of whatever magical property you think it has.”
“So it would be,” Godwin said, greatly pleased. “If I had the synthetic variant. It just so happens that this is the real thing.”
Yaura didn’t respond, but Godwin could imagine the look on her face.
“What are you two going on about?” Robert asked. “Yaura, your mouth is open so wide a trout is likely to jump in it.”
“Godwin…if the wolves knew about this…where did you get that?”
“What in the world is this nenny-trippymeth?” Robert asked.
“N, N, dimethyltriptamine,” Godwin articulated.
“The death drug,” Yaura said. “It’s a chemical that the human brain releases on only two occasions. During sleep…”
“And during death,” Godwin said. “But as you well know, the sleep version would be a little redundant to collect. Doing so would induce death, unless there’s a way to survive your head being cut open that I’m unaware of.”
“Godwin, this is serious,” Yaura said.
“Indeed.”
“This is…worse than blood magic. This is like some kind of necromancy.”
“Promise not to tell? I’ve been told I’m too pretty for prison. Plus that Warden at Snowpit has it out for me.”
“I’m being serious!”
“What are you going to do with that?” Robert asked, fascinated.
“Kill a demon,” Godwin answered. He stood and turned to Yaura while his potion bubbled and hissed on the fire. “That is what we Shigata are supposed to do, isn’t it? Or are you content to be relegated to the role of man slayer for the rest of your days, hunting petty killers and those who put their hands up the skirt of some lord’s daughter?”
Yaura was looking at him like she had never seen him before.
Godwin could not have said why he was so annoyed. There was something in the air. It was putting him in a foul mood.
“Godwin, are you some kind of witch?” Robert asked.
Godwin rolled his eyes. “You two are being extraordinarily dull. What do you think? I lured a little child away from his mother with promises of candy? Took him to my secret dungeon and did unspeakable things? The DMT came from a man named Klaus in Saebyl. Denver Rockhelm’s men had placed him on th
e rack because they found the bodies of fourteen noblewomen dismembered in Klaus’s basement. I suggested that rather than waste the effort to punish him for another five months until his heart gave out, we let Klaus pass on and contribute something useful to the world on his way out. Rockhelm’s lead guardian happened to agree.”
Godwin spoke with more anger than he meant to, but they shouldn’t have accused him the way they had.
Robert’s eyes were wide. Yaura merely looked disgusted.
“Great,” she said. “Glad to know the human death chemical you’ve got there was extracted ethically. Forgive me for considering that it might be wrong to toy with such substances. What could I possibly have been thinking?”
Godwin turned back to his alembic. “Say what you will,” he growled. “But this chemical will do much more good in my hands than in Klaus’s rotting head.”
“Um, what are you going to do with that chemical exactly?” Robert asked. “If you don’t mind the question?”
“Took you long enough to ask,” Godwin said. “Ideally we would have the rusalka consume it. But that’s hardly going to be an option. I’ll take the oil and rub if on the edge of my sword. Theoretically when I cut the rusalka, the DMT will induce a second death in her, allowing her to pass on.”
“Theoretically?” Yaura scoffed. “You really think that will work?”
“I do,” Godwin said, confidently. “The reason the rusalka can’t die is because the inner mechanisms of her body no longer function. There’s no hormones, no required nutrition. When you stab or burn her there’s no death chemical in its brain to let the spirit know that it’s time to leave. I aim to induce that signal manually.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Yaura asked.
“Then we feed Robert to her and run like hell,” Godwin snapped. “Now I’ve had enough of your questions and doubts. You can either come with me and help or stay back in the village and wait. It’s up to you.”
“Oh, I’m coming with you,” Yaura said. “I’ll not have you complaining for the next ten years about how I abandoned you in the woods. But Robert’s not coming.”
“I certainly am,” Robert said.
“No, you’re not,” Godwin said. “As much as I tell myself I wouldn’t use you in an escape effort should my plan fail, I hardly think you’ll really want to tempt me with the opportunity.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take,” Robert said. “How often does one get the chance to see two Shigata battle a beast like this? And besides, I know I’m not the only one who was completely spooked by what those villagers did last night. If you think I’m staying back with them while you two go off and maybe don’t come back, then you’re fucking delusional.”
The three of them journeyed into the woods. Godwin always felt liberated by an impending fight. There was a sense that every other problem could be safely forgotten. The chance of death meant that the task at hand was all that was worth thinking about. Everything else could be put on hold until after the immediate danger was taken care of.
“It has been too long since the last time I was assigned to kill a demon,” Yaura said.
“Me too,” Godwin replied. “Even longer since the last time I was assigned to fight a demon that actually mattered. My last was a kikimora living in some rich man’s basement back in Hart.”
Yaura snorted. “I hope you charged him well for that.”
“Not really,” Godwin said. “Bastard liked to haggle and it wasn’t worth the time. I ended up convincing the demon to leave to marry a domovoi in a neighboring house.”
“I bet the owner of its new home was thrilled.”
“Actually he was. He was an eccentric old man who thought that they were cute. He thought of the demons as pets. Come to think of it, I believe the demons thought the same of him. In any case, it seemed to be a successful cohabitation.”
“Always glad to hear a happy ending,” Yaura said. “But maybe all this time without a real fight is making you soft. Should I be worried?”
Godwin granted her a look that answered her question. “How about you?” he asked. “What was your last demon?”
“Nothing special. A vampire that had been feasting on young women along the coast of Ice Bay. I met with him rather diplomatically and advised him to take his activities to the Blood Wood.”
“And?”
Yaura shrugged. “Diplomacy failed. So I ran a sword through him and burned his body.”
“Gods, the lives you Shigata live!” Robert exclaimed, wide-eyed. “To speak of such creatures like domovoi and vampires like its nothing. It makes me wish I had considered joining your order back when I was young.”
An awkward silence descended onto the group. Robert seemed to realize that he had said something improper, and started making small talk about half a dozen different subjects that failed to change the atmosphere.
The path wasn’t hard to follow. The rusalka must have been unusually powerful, because the closer they got the more signs of death and decay they encountered. The leaves became more brown and shriveled. Dead wood littered the ground.
Even if they didn’t have obvious clues to go on, it would not have been difficult. Just as Godwin had a way with the chemistry and art of potion making, Yaura was an expert in tracking creatures and humans of all sorts. She had a manner of communicating with the land that gave her a greater perception of who had passed through it than Godwin could ever hope to master.
“We’re getting close,” she eventually said.
Godwin nodded. Robert looked grave.
“It’s not too late for you to turn back,” Godwin said to him. “If all goes well, it’s not going to be that exciting. If it gets exciting, then you probably don’t want to be there regardless.”
“No,” he said stubbornly. “This is truly a once in a lifetime opportunity and I shan’t miss it. My comrades in the East would never let me live down the shame of it if I were to turn my back on such an adventure.”
“Have it your way,” Godwin said. “But understand, this is an assignment to us now. Our priority is killing the rusalka, not preserving your life. If it’s a choice between the two…”
Robert nodded. Theatrically throwing his hands in the air he said, “I accept all risk and responsibility. Onward!”
The air grew warmer as they drew nearer. A faint grey mist hovered in the air. “If I didn’t know better,” Yaura said, “I’d think that we were headed to the lair of a dragon.”
Robert’s eyes grew wide.
“Don’t you fret,” Yaura said to him. “The dragons are nearly all gone, and they’re certainly not living this close to the coast of the Dark Sea. Those demons are buried deep in the caverns of Jagjaw and Dredjko, or sealed away in the southern reaches of the Blood Wood.”
“Nobody here is fretting,” Robert said, not realizing that his pale face and shaky voice betrayed him.
Yaura turned to Godwin. “You certainly look eager to get on with this.”
Godwin wasn’t sure what had given that away, but he couldn’t deny that she was right. He felt an excitement he had not had in ages. The prospect of this fight had sparked something inside of him. Something he thought had burned out long ago.
“To battle with a real demon,” he finally said. “Yaura you’ve got to admit, this is what we’re meant for. We’re swords to be drawn against this kind of foe. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. The human assignments. There are too many of them. Far too many. In fact, I would say I’m going to Unduyo to address that with the Sages more than I’m going to there to talk about Kanjo.”
Yaura gave him a curious look. “I don’t disagree of course,” she said. “But you know you’re asking for trouble. Godwin, we’re Shigata. We serve. We ask no questions.”
Godwin bit his tongue. He thought it good to plant the seed in her mind, but didn’t want to over-water it too soon. Besides, doing so was unnecessary. Despite their recited talking points about serving the Sages, he knew she agreed with him.
&n
bsp; When they came to a clearing in the woods she stopped. It was near midday, and with the sun beaming directly down upon them it was almost hot despite it being mid-winter.
“We’re standing on a barrow,” Yaura said.
“A barrow? How could you know that?” Godwin looked around for any sign of graves and saw nothing.
“There is a mass of bodies underneath us,” she said. “My thrygta. Have you ever looked closely at it?”
Yaura held out the pommel of her sword so Godwin could see it better. The silver dragon-in-chains stared back at him. Looking closely Godwin saw that its eyes were not black, but blue. The thrygta was also emitting a very soft humming sound.
“What’s with the eyes?” he asked.
“Blue amber,” Yaura said. “Extremely rare and extremely sensitive to death. It hums when we’re in the presence of the dead. This is extreme as far as the vibrations it makes. There’s definitely a mass of bodies underneath us.”
“Great,” Godwin said. “I love a good omen right before going off into a fight. Can you tell me anything about why it does that? I don’t know about the chemical structure of blue amber offhand.”
“You know,” Yaura said. “For most people it’s enough to simply have a magical artifact. We don’t need to pull apart everything until its bare dismembered soul lays before us.”
“That’s what you think I do?” Godwin asked. “Pull things apart until their bare dismembered souls are revealed? You have the mind of a torturer to put it in those terms.”
“Perhaps I do.”
As they continued onward, they found even more obvious signs of the demon. The first body looked like it had been mauled by a bear. Godwin bent down to inspect it. Robert had to rush in the opposite direction to suddenly relieve himself.
“This is odd,” he said.
“It’s not that uncommon for a rusalka to leave the bodies above ground. Some prefer not to contaminate their habitats with more death.”
“No, not that. Look. Rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet. And the blood hasn’t congealed in the hands.”
“A fresh kill. What of it?”
