by E. P. Clark
“Sometimes you have to be headstrong and foolhardy to do what must be done,” said Slava. “Sometimes there is no choice. Sometimes someone has to be the one to stand in front and do what no one else will do, even if that is the foolish thing to do. I wish I could be wise and sensible, but I cannot. Not and save Vladislava. So I must be headstrong and foolhardy, because I have nothing left. Sometimes one has to be headstrong and foolhardy to be a hero, and it seems I cannot evade my fate. It seems I must be a hero, whether I will it or no, and so I must be headstrong and foolhardy in the bargain.”
“Then…Remember, Slava: Vladya is your own blood sister. Your only blood sister. Those others—they are just Severnolesniye.”
“Yes,” said Slava. “Women who took me in and cared for me and protected me. Unlike my own family. My own blood sister. My only blood sister. I cannot let her kill them.”
“Slava!” cried her mother. “Have mercy on her!”
“When am I not merciful?” said Slava sadly. “If only Vladya had thought to have mercy on me. If only all of you had thought to have mercy on me. But no more. I will wield a sharper kind of mercy now. And so…before I go. I forgive you.”
“Forgive me?” Her mother’s face twisted. “Forgive me for what?”
“For what you had done to me. I didn’t think I could—but I forgive you.”
“Slava…Slava, I…” her mother’s face was still twisted up, and Slava knew it was the grimace of denial, not remorse, that distorted it.
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “Even if you were to apologize, which you will not, there is nothing to be done. At least not by you. I can forgive you, but you can never take it back. So I will forgive you, as that is the only thing that either of us can do. Now let us be off.”
The golden-eyed leshaya swept her up in its branches, and they set off. Her mother stared after them, her hand at her throat, her mouth opening and closing as if she were crying, or screaming, but could force no sound out. Slava wished…she wished her mother had never put them in this position, but as she herself had said, the past could not be undone, no matter how much both of them might wish it. The way only was forward, with Slava at the front.
Slava had expected their progress to be slow, but within moments they were out of sight of the sanctuary. She tried to look back and find the others, but the golden-eyed leshaya held her tightly, and it was impossible to see back through its fir boughs.
“The others are behind us, never fear, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” the golden-eyed leshaya told her. “The wolf, in his arrogance, has felt a great bond with them and has taken charge of their safety. Do not concern yourself about them. Concern yourself with what lies ahead.”
After one last futile look back, Slava decided to follow the leshaya’s advice, at least as far as not concerning herself over the others, who were out of her power to help now anyway. But when she tried to think about what lay ahead, she could see nothing but darkness. She leaned back against the leshaya’s trunk and tried not to be sick instead. Apparently even the leshaya could not save her from morning sickness.
***
Whether they travelled for a long time or a short time she couldn’t say, but when the leshaya stopped later in the day to let Slava rest for a moment, she recognized the place they had stopped two days before their arrival at the sanctuary. Slava looked back, and saw that the woods seemed rather thicker this time than when they had been there before. Dunya came up to her from out of a particularly thick grove.
“The leshiye and the animals have been trading us off,” she told Slava. “How are you? Are you well?”
“Yes,” Slava assured her. “And the others?”
“All well. Hungry, but well.”
“We’ll need to procure some food soon,” said Slava, struck by this new difficulty.
“We will stop later outside some village, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” said the golden-eyed leshaya. “You can send someone for provisions. But you will not need much, as we will be in Krasnograd by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Tomorrow afternoon!” cried Slava, who, despite having seen the evidence of their speedy passage, had still not grasped the pace at which they travelled. “How so quickly?”
“We leshiye are not so closely bound to the earth as you women,” the golden-eyed leshaya told her. “The same magic that lifted our roots from the soil allows us to skim over it more lightly than those of you who are so tightly tied to the clay from which you are made.”
“Oh,” said Slava, seeing that she would have to content herself with that explanation. The golden-eyed leshaya stretched out its branches for her, and she climbed back into them and tried to settle herself as comfortably as possible.
The rest of the day passed in another blur, which Slava supposed was only natural, as they were travelling faster than a galloping horse. They did, as the golden-eyed leshaya had promised, stop outside of a village so that Sasha and Olik could go ask for food for them, but then as soon as they had returned, the leshaya swept Slava up in her branches again, and after that they left the road entirely, and spent the night racing through dark forests, where, Slava was sure, she was the first human to pass that way in many a month.
Sunrise found them approaching another village, where once again they stopped and sent Sasha and Olik for food, and then they set off again at their madlong rush. Slava leaned against the leshaya’s rough trunk, and let her thoughts stream past her just as the scenery was doing. She was vaguely aware of the others behind her, although she couldn’t tell if she were truly seeing and hearing them, or if it were all in the vision of her mind’s eye. It seemed to her that Dunya was lost in silent conversation with the elk, who was so clearly a sister to her, and that Dima and Valery Annovich spent many hours in serious conversation, but perhaps she only dreamed all of that, just as she had dreamed away so much of her life. And now she had dreamed herself to where she was now. She thought of all the plans she had made, ever since she had decided to leave Krasnograd, and all the dreams she had had of a better future once she returned from the Midnight Land, and how it seemed that they had all been in vain and how none of her happy fancies and grand plans would come to be, because the future was just as dark and mysterious as it had been a year ago. Slava nestled herself more deeply into the golden-eyed leshaya’s branches, and went back to dreaming.
Sometime around noon they came to an abrupt halt.
“We are within a couple of versts of Krasnograd, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” announced the golden-eyed leshaya. “What is your plan?”
“My plan?” repeated Slava dazedly.
“Shall we storm the city by force, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna?”
“Would it work?” asked Slava doubtfully.
“The city would be torn apart, brick from brick and stone from stone,” the golden-eyed leshaya assured her.
“That seems a little drastic for an opening tactic,” said Slava. “Perhaps I should try to reason with Vladya first.”
“Will that work, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna?” asked the golden-eyed leshaya doubtfully.
“Most likely not, but I would feel bad if I tore the city apart brick from brick and stone from stone without first at least trying it,” said Slava. “I wouldn’t want to give into my baser impulses at the first provocation. Will you…Will you come in with me?” she asked hesitantly. She realized it was silly, after accepting the leshaya’s help to storm her own city, but she felt embarrassed to inconvenience it any further than necessary.
“Its walls will not be congenial to me, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” said the golden-eyed leshaya. “You will have to be brave for me.”
“Then I will,” said Slava.
“Then let us set off,” said the golden-eyed leshaya. “Those who do not enter the city can wait within sight of the city, so that your sister will know we are not bluffing. We can call for them if necessary, and they will be at our side in moments.”
They moved at little more than walking pace until Krasnograd rose up before them, when they
came to a halt again.
“We should enter the city in numbers,” said the golden-eyed leshaya. “A few of my sisters should join us, and so should Gray Wolf and Elk and Bear.”
“And me!” said the snow fox, trotting forward boldly from amongst the tree trunks.
“And me!” cried Dima, coming forward.
“And me,” said the snow hare quietly, loping over to stare up at Slava meaningfully.
“Yes,” said Slava. “Here: jump into my arms.” She stretched out her arms, and the snow hare bounded into them. He was even warmer and heavier than she had expected, and she could feel his heart racing in his chest.
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered to him.
“I’m not afraid, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” he whispered back. “I am here to give you courage, just as my brother did before.”
“What would I do without you?” asked Slava, holding him to her closely.
“Not much, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” he told her. “Now, enough of this sentimental rambling! Let us be off!”
“Wisely spoken, snow hare,” agreed the golden-eyed leshaya, and they set off again. The smallness of their group, Slava noted, did nothing to diminish its strangeness; in fact, each member of it seemed much stranger, with so much more empty space around it and so many fewer similar companions. Even Dima looked strange, striding between Gray Wolf and Bear, although Slava couldn’t put her finger on why. Pehaps it was because, for the first time since she had met him, his face was grim and sad.
They came to outer Krasnograd and started down its streets. Screams rose up from all around them, and Slava could sense, even half-hidden as she was in the leshaya’s branches, movement on all the streets as people ran for cover, or ran to inform the Empress of what was invading her city. But no one attempted to stop them.
The gates were still closed when they arrived at the city walls, and there were no guards on the outside to open them or hold them against their assault. The golden-eyed leshaya banged on the gate with her branches, and when that failed to summon anyone, called forward an oak-leshaya with long bare arm-like limbs, who reached out and ripped through the gates with one motion. Suddenly Slava began to believe, as she had not truly believed before, that they were indeed capable of tearing the city apart, brick from brick and stone from stone.
A knot of frightened soldiers was waiting for them on the other side, swords drawn, and the sound of boots running towards them could be heard, signaling the arrival of reinforcements.
“Do not attack!” cried Slava, pulling aside the leshaya’s boughs in order to be seen more clearly. “We come in peace!”
The soldiers all gave her a look that suggested that, in their experience, people who tore through city gates as if through paper did not normally come in peace.
“I am here to speak with my sister!” Slava continued. “The Tsarina! I am the Tsarinovna, and I must speak with her most urgently!”
This did not appear to comfort the soldiers in any way. The only good it did was to make them take a hesitant step back. It was apparent that none of them wanted to be the one to strike down the Tsarinovna, no matter what orders the Tsarina might have given to that effect.
The running boots came around the corner and proved themselves to be Boleslav Vlasiyevich and about fifty guards.
“Tsarinovna!” he cried, sliding to a stop on the damp cobblestones. “What are you doing here?!?” Some strong emotion worked across his face; if it had not been so unlikely, Slava would have said it was joy and pride, comingled with fear and horror. The latter she was perfectly willing to believe, while the former, she told herself, was merely the result of her overactive imagination, showing her what she wished to see.
“I come in peace, Boleslav Vlasiyevich,” Slava repeated. “But I must speak with my sister. I have heard of her intentions regarding Olga Vasilisovna and my ward.”
“And you, what, came to trade yourself for them?” demanded Boleslav Vlasiyevich. Now the horror was unmistakeable.
“No,” said Slava. Gray Wolf raised his hackles and showed his teeth. Slava was fairly sure that several of the soldiers whimpered.
“If they are set free, then no one will come to any harm,” said Slava.
“I can see how peaceful your plans are, Tsarinovna.” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich. “Why did you not stay with your mother! I thought you were headed there, I thought you would be safe there, I thought…”
“I know what you thought, Boleslav Vlasiyevich,” Slava told him, before he could finish his sentence. “You thought I had no intention of harming the Tsarina. And you were not wrong. But this threat to Olga Vasilisovna and Vladislava Vasilisovna changes everything. Deliver them safe and sound into my hands, allow us to walk free out of Krasnograd, and I swear to you, you need never concern yourself about me again. I will retire to the most distant sanctuary in Zem’, and spend the rest of my days there, praying and tending my herb garden. Simply give me Olga and Vladislava, and all your problems will be solved.” Once again disquiet twinged through Slava at that thought, but she quelled it and did her best to look like someone whose greatest desire was to retire to a distant sanctuary and tend to her herb garden.
“Well…” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich. Several of the soldiers unwisely chose that moment to raise their swords in what Gray Wolf interpreted as a threatening manner. He growled at them again, and they quickly lowered their weapons with shaking hands.
“How do I know your intentions are what you claim them to be?” Boleslav Vlasiyevich demanded, giving Gray Wolf a wary and unhappy glance. “How do I know this will not end in…in…” he could not seem to put words to the dire images in his head.
“I will enter my sister’s chambers with no more protection than these two companions,” said Slava, holding up the snow hare and nodding at the snow fox. “Surely you cannot suspect them of deadly danger.”
Oh, you would be surprised, said the snow fox in Slava’s head. Especially when others make decisions for us without consulting us first.
Oh, be quiet: you know you want to go, Slava said back to her.
True, so true, agreed the snow fox with a grin. I’ve never seen a Tsarina before. I hope she’s much grander than you are.
You’ll find out soon enough, Slava told her, and turned her attention back to Boleslav Vlasiyevich.
“Well…” he said, fidgeting a little and then stopping himself, aware that the eyes of all his men were upon him. Once again there was a very strange expression on his face, one that Slava could not read and that was not what she would have expected to see on him.
“Let me down, please,” Slava said to the golden-eyed leshaya. It released her, and she slid to the ground. “Boleslav Vlasiyevich,” she said, stepping closer to him. “You trusted me before; trust me again! I mean no one any harm, I swear it, I swear it by anything you will have me swear it by, but I cannot stand by while Olga Vasilisovna and Vladislava Vasilisovna are in danger! And surely you cannot stand by either, when the life of an innocent child is under threat! If you do not let me save Vladislava Vasilisovna, and she comes to any harm, then her blood will be on your hands!”
“Well…” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich, and then, clearing his throat, said more firmly, “You may go, Tsarinovna, but only on the condition that I and my most trusted men accompany you.”
“We will accompany Krasnoslava Tsarinovna to the palace walls,” said the golden-eyed leshaya.
Boleslav Vlasiyevich opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, the golden-eyed leshaya told him, speaking surprisingly kindly, “We will reach the palace walls whether you wish us to or not. Better to let us make our way there peacefully rather than by force. You have nothing to fear from us, as long as Krasnoslava Tsarinovna is safe.”
“Please, Boleslav Vlasiyevich,” said Slava. She looked into his indecisive eyes and tried to pour all of her need, all of her conviction, into him. “Please help me. I cannot stand idly by while the life of a little child is in danger. Please help me.”
“Very well,” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich, swallowing heavily. He looked closely into her face, as if trying to discern what her plans were, and added, “Your ‘companions’ will need to stay under guard on the main square, if you wish to gain her trust. And I make no promises that the Tsarina will see you—or that she will listen to you if she does. But I will do what I can for you, Tsarinovna.”
“Thank you, Boleslav Vlasiyevich,” said Slava. “Let us be off, then.”
They started walking down the street. Boleslav Vlasiyevich walked in silent uncertainty next to Slava, who clutched the snow hare to her chest like a shield. The feel of his soft fur against her chin and soft little body in her arms made her feel, rightly or wrongly, as if she were capable of protecting others, since she was protecting him. The snow fox trotted at her heels, looking around and grinning at everything that caught her eye. The golden-eyed leshaya and Gray Wolf stalked right behind them, followed by the others of Slava’s party, and surrounded by Boleslav Vlasiyevich’s men, who were so terrified Slava thought she could hear their ragged breath and racing heartbeats over the sound of their heavy boots.
People came out of their homes to see them, but immediately screamed and ran back in. News of their arrival made its way ahead of them, so that by the time they had taken the second turn, the streets had cleared of all but the occasional foolhardy urchin, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monsters and traitors, and having no mother handy to forbid it.
They walked in silence, except for the running commentary that the snow fox and Gray Wolf kept up in Slava’s head about everything they encountered and how tasty the street urchins looked, until finally the snow hare told them to be quiet and stop fooling around and bothering Krasnoslava Tsarinovna. They both fell into a mock offended silence, and the rest of the journey was completed to the sound of nothing but their footsteps and the cries of those they encountered.
They had to stop and wait for a while at the kremlin gates, while Boleslav Vlasiyevich spoke with the guards inside and arranged for word to be sent to the Empress and for a guard to be set over those who would remain outside while Slava was with her sister. Then they had to wait a while longer until Slava’s sister sent word that she would speak with her. The longer they waited, the more Slava could feel her courage and her certainty ebbing out of her, and the more rash and improbable this ill-thought venture seemed. When word came that Slava’s sister would deign to speak with her, but only if she, Slava, came to her alone, Slava had to fight off a wave of dread, and remind herself that she had volunteered for this, she had insisted that the others come along, and that this was what she must do, there was no backing out of it now.
