by Anna Kashina
My power was infinite.
I felt my father’s hands drop away.
“Good. You have learned your lesson well, Marya. I am glad.”
I breathed out, letting the tension go. I felt my hands tremble and clenched them into fists so my father wouldn’t see.
“Are you feeling better now, Marya?”
I nodded. I felt weak. I felt like an empty shell, searching for energy to come and fill it.
“The boy is but a tool, brought forth by my enemies to challenge your powers, Marya. He is not acting of his own will. He has none.”
I nodded again.
“And now, we will learn his story and see who, or what, is really behind this.”
Again, I nodded. I had to do what I must. I had to.
“You are strong, Marya,” Kashchey went on. “Because you are different. Always remember that.”
“I do, Father,” I whispered. “I do.”
Ivan
Ivan’s mind raced. You’ll have to do all the talking. But Wolf had never mentioned anything about leaving him alone to face Yaga. He was wise, and powerful, and ancient. He was always around. He was supposed to protect Ivan. Right?
“My friend was here just a moment ago,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be back any minute. We travel together.”
“Your friend is surely smarter than you are.” Baba Yaga laughed. “He ran away when he saw you wander into my lair. You’re the one who had to stay and do all the silly talking. Teaches you a thing or two, doesn’t it?”
It certainly does. “We didn’t come here accidentally. We came here looking for you.”
“You did, did you?” A spark of interest gleamed in the yellow eyes. “Whatever for?”
Ivan took a deep breath. “I guess if you eat me, you’ll never know.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to tell me everything and then it’s the kettle for you, boy.”
Ivan smiled. “I won’t be the one to argue with you, old mother. Just let me clean your house first. It’s too sad to think of an old woman like you living here all alone, with no one to help with the chores. I’ll clean up and fix your door, and if my friend doesn’t show up with rabbits by the end of it, you can still eat me, right?”
“I suppose,” she said. “There’s no harm in waiting. If you came out here looking for me like you say, you must know you can’t escape unless I let you.”
“Of course I know, old mother.”
There was a brook nearby and it wasn’t hard to persuade the hut to walk over to it. Thick reeds on its banks made good cleaning rags, and Ivan soon got absorbed in scrubbing, and rinsing, and mending. He liked to do things well. And he’d told the truth—after seeing Baba Yaga crying over a resurrected warrior in the Cat’s tale he couldn’t believe she was evil. Just lonely, and neglected.
Where had Wolf gone?
He found stems of flax with their tiny blue flowers growing upstream, and wove a bunch of them into a rope. He knew how to set a simple rabbit trap. He and his brothers had done it sometimes, when they’d played in the palace gardens.
Vassily had always said that a real man should be able to feed himself, and not depend on his servants for everything. Little Ivan used to feel sorry for the fluffy rabbits with their beady, frightened eyes, but he believed every word his smart elder brother spoke.
He’d always adored Vassily. Until he’d overheard his brothers one day telling their father how Ivan had mistaken a bull for a stallion and had nearly killed himself riding the angry beast. In truth, it had been Vassily who’d dared Ivan to ride the bull, the same Vassily who had later mocked Ivan in front of their father, making the youngest Tzarevich seem like a fool.
Vassily must have believed Ivan to be too badly hurt to be able to get up and listen at Father’s door.
Ivan had never looked at his brothers the same way again, but he did remember everything Vassily had taught him. Including catching rabbits. The skill had come in handy more than once when traveling with Wolf.
He set the trap in the bushes on the other side of the stream and settled on the bank beside the hut, rubbing the kettle with sand. The old metal was already beginning to shine when he heard the cracking sound that signaled a trapped animal.
By the time he was done cleaning, he had six rabbits lying on the grass.
He skinned and gutted them with his knife, cut them into pieces, and filled the kettle from a deeper part of the brook. Then he washed up and went inside to light the fire.
Baba Yaga had been watching him intently. “You said something about putting fresh grass into my mat.”
“Of course,” he said. “Just as soon as I start the stew.”
He looked around for a spice shelf. The room was hard to recognize. The light of the setting sun shone through the clean window, painting the polished floor boards reddish brown. The mended door fit into its frame without leaving any holes for the mosquitoes to come through. The drapes, still damp, were almost back to their original white, and made the small room seem almost cheery. The merry fire crackled in the stove. The chimney, swept with an old broom found in the corner, didn’t smoke anymore, and the logs in the stove gave off the pleasantly heady smell of burning pine.
He found the cabinet with salt and some spices that smelled like they’d be good in the stew. In a corner, he came across a sack of beets, onions, and potatoes. They were beginning to wilt, but he judged them good enough for cooking. Then he went outside to pick some grass for the mat.
The clearing was awash in the last orange beams of the sun. In its light Ivan saw a dark shape sitting in the grass by the forest hedge.
“You!” He strode over to Wolf’s side, relief washing over him. “I was beginning to get worried. Where have you been?”
Wolf just sat there, staring past Ivan.
A rustle of grass made Ivan turn around.
Baba Yaga stood by the door, arms crossed over her chest. “So, that’s your friend, eh? I can see now why he was so hard to find!”
Ivan stepped back. Why was Wolf silent? What was wrong?
Baba Yaga limped slightly, but despite her ancient looks, her walk was as energetic as that of a young woman. She no longer looked disheveled. Ivan wasn’t sure when she had a chance to change and clean up, but her graying hair was tidily braided and tucked away into a clean linen dress, with an apron tied on top. In fact, she no longer looked that old either—a respectable, middle-aged matron with the remains of a majestic beauty set deeply into her fine-boned face.
It seemed to Ivan that as she walked across the glade she and Wolf were having an inaudible conversation. Then she reached the beast and stopped in front of him, her arms once again crossed over her chest.
“So,” she said. “You dare show your ugly, hairy muzzle here? You are no longer afraid of my wrath?”
Wolf growled. Ivan once again became acutely aware of how similar were Wolf’s eyes and the eyes of Baba Yaga.
“Silent?” She seemed even younger now, slender like a village maiden. “No voice left, eh?”
Wolf growled again and lowered his head.
She cocked her head, her face lighting up with a smile. “So, you really are mute. Wordless, like the beast you are.”
Wolf raised his head. Their eyes locked—yellow to yellow. There was a conversation going on in their gazes. Watching them made Ivan feel like an intruder.
Then Baba Yaga stirred. “Boy! Bring me that old axe you found behind the stove. A beast, such as he is, doesn’t deserve to be killed with a decent weapon.”
Ivan didn’t move. After a moment she turned, her angry glance forcing him to step back. “You dare defy me, kettle meat?”
Ivan swallowed. “Wolf is my friend, and whatever spell has made him lose his speech, he is no ordinary beast. I will not let you harm him, old mother.”
Her vertical pupils narrowed to slits. Her gaze stung. “You dare speak on his behalf?”
It took all of Ivan’s courage to hold her gaze. “I do, old mother. Whatever t
he reason for his silence, whatever has come between the two of you in the past, he is all I have in the world and I will stand by him.”
“All you have in this world, boy?” She leaned toward Ivan. “What kind of an outcast are you?”
Ivan shifted from foot to foot. He’d never articulated how he felt about Wolf, but what he’d said was true. Wolf had become his only true friend in the whole world. He would not let this old woman mistreat his friend.
It crossed his mind that, powerful as she was, there was nothing he could do to stop her, but he dismissed the unhelpful thought.
“It’s my fault we came here, old mother. I messed up. Wolf agreed to help me out. He wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been so foolish, so if you need to punish someone, it would be me.”
Baba Yaga sighed and lowered her arms. “You must have a real power to bring out the goodness in people, boy. Otherwise, how could I see this monster and not smash both of you to pieces like I should?”
Wolf looked at her in silence, his tension betrayed only by the knots of tight muscle that made his thick gray fur bristle at the neck.
Baba Yaga laughed. “Now I know why your faithful companion left you all alone to face my wrath. And, you are brave indeed to face me for the sake of this unworthy creature. Perhaps he still has a grain of good in him, to inspire such devotion.”
Her gaze lost some of its iron. Ivan stirred, as if the bonds that had held him in place were suddenly loosened.
“Perhaps,” he ventured, “we can all sit around and eat some rabbit stew? There’s plenty for everyone.”
Baba Yaga stared at him. Ivan suppressed an urge to cower under the yellow flame of her stare. Yet, at length her gaze softened, and the set of her jaw eased a bit.
“I can’t decide if you’re daft or clever. Whichever way it is, you’re truly something else.”
She turned and made her way back into the hut.
Ivan and Wolf exchanged glances. After a moment’s hesitation Ivan turned to follow the old woman. At length, he heard the shuffle of paws following him through the grass.
Marya
“ Show me Ivan,” I commanded the Mirror.
The mist of the polished surface thinned to reveal a shape crawling through thick grass. It was hard to tell whether he was anywhere near the Hidden Stream.
“What do you think?” my father asked.
I scoffed. “An ordinary fool.” Seen like this, the boy indeed looked like a common villager. Perhaps all the talk of the prophecy was making us see things that weren’t there?
“Perhaps you’re right. Yet, Leshy and the Net were no accident. Someone is helping him.”
“The father of some unfortunate maid you kidnapped?”
“Why involve ourselves in guesswork? Let’s see for ourselves.”
“All right.” I turned to the Mirror. “Show us how Ivan came to our kingdom.”
The Mirror grew dim and light again, picking up the story from where I’d left it last, as Ivan was riding out of his kingdom. His horse was truly a disaster. No beast of any magic, for sure.
Uneventful days flashed in the Mirror like moments as Ivan rode, following a trail that led out of their kingdom to the east. He crossed the border of the Fourteenth kingdom, and into a deep forest.
The Thirty Ninth kingdom can be reached from the Twelfth Kingdom by riding east for something like…a year, I believe? That is, if you don’t encounter any obstacles on the way.
The first of the obstacles came in the shape of a crossroads with a huge boulder planted right in the middle of it. The Mirror showed us the inscription on the boulder, made in runic letters. It said:
Come thou straight, and let thyself and thy mount be starved.
Come thou right, and lose thy mount.
Come thou left, and lose thy life.
Turn thou back, and go in peace.
By the looks of it, it must have been written very long ago.
I found myself wishing for Ivan to turn back. Really, whatever his quest, it couldn’t be worth the trouble.
His next logical choice was to go right and, in spite of the complete uselessness of his horse, Ivan hesitated before making that decision. He actually made a move to go straight, but reasonably decided against it.
He turned right and followed the disappearing path deeper and deeper into the woods. Judging by its state, not many traveling knights ever made it down here, and of those few, even fewer decided to go on after seeing the stone.
The path Ivan followed soon ended in a glade, covered in scattered horse bones, some of them years old. We watched Ivan dismount and walk around the glade trying to find where the trail lead from there.
We saw his horse suddenly panic and jump away from something that appeared like lightning and landed straight on the horse’s back. A huge gray beast. It growled, aiming at the panicked horse’s neck, and in seconds Ivan’s unfortunate mount fell to the ground, squealing and kicking its legs in the air before finally going still.
The gray beast lifted its head, looking at Ivan’s horrified face, and the Mirror turned the view around to let us look straight at its blood-stained snout.
I heard my father gasp even as I echoed the sound myself.
“The Gray Wolf,” my father whispered.
I shivered. One of the oldest creatures that ever lived, the Gray Wolf was one of the Primals, like Bayun the Cat. Everyone, including the Immortals, feared Primal magic, a mysterious form of power no creature, living or undead, could resist. Even the worst of our kin thought it best to stay out of his path.
Ivan was likely the only one in the area apparently oblivious to this knowledge. Not only did he show no reverence at the sight of the great beast, but he actually reached for his sword and would have drawn it if the wolf in the Mirror hadn’t produced a sound more or less resembling human laughter.
“Put that thing away, boy. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
“Why did you kill my horse?” Ivan demanded.
I held my breath. I shivered at the thought of what might happen to Ivan after addressing Wolf in such a disrespectful way.
But the beast was apparently in a forgiving mood.
“Did you read the sign?”
“What sign?”
“On the boulder over there.” Wolf sat on the ground and scratched his ear in a dog-like gesture. He was huge, his head in a sitting positing coming up nearly to Ivan’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t tell me your parents never taught you to read. What do they teach you traveling knights these days, anyway?” He threw a longing glance at the horse carcass, clearly looking forward to a meal.
Ivan lifted his chin. “I can read as well as anyone. Of course, I read the sign.”
“Maybe you don’t know your left from your right?” Wolf spoke with exaggerated patience, as if talking to a little child.
For the first time Ivan looked doubtful. “You mean…Did you write that inscription on the boulder?”
“Thank the stars. Finally!”
“But…”
Wolf sighed. “The horse was your mount, right?”
“Yes…”
“There you have it!” Wolf triumphantly bared his teeth and took a step toward the horse.
Ivan watched him circle his dead prey, as if forgetting all about Ivan.
“But what am I supposed to do without a horse?” he asked after a pause.
“Why should I care?” Wolf growled.
“You should care because you killed my horse.”
“Arrrggggghhhhhh!” The wolf’s growl flattened the leaves of the trees, and rippled outward. Even the walls in my room trembled.
Ivan jumped away, keeping his hands in front of him in a calming gesture. “Just tell me what I should do next, all right?” he asked in a soothing voice.
Wolf licked his muzzle. “I suppose that’s the only way to get rid of you. I could have eaten you, you know, but I have to respect the inscription on the boulder. A pact is a pact. Just go east. You’ll reach a village in two days.”
>
Ivan turned and walked out of sight.
I unclenched my hands that had balled into fists without me realizing it, and stretched my fingers surreptitiously.
I was confused. It took either extreme courage, or extreme foolishness to face the Gray Wolf the way Ivan had. His innocent blue eyes made it hard for me to decide which. It was hard to imagine that this boy possessed so much courage. Did his real strength lie in deception?
The scene in the Mirror changed again to show the Tzar’s palace in the Twelfth Kingdom. I recognized Vassily, whose eyes hadn’t lost their calculating look. He sat at a table, dressed in a rich royal caftan—red and gold, quite appropriate, and very becoming, for an heir to the throne. It took me longer to recognize Fedor. He’d grown up fat and sloppy, and his face wore a perpetual look of boredom. I felt distantly sorry for Fedor. He could have been different if he’d grown up in a better place.
Vassily spoke to a man dressed in simple peasant garb, but with the look and posture of a warrior. I wondered if everyone could see through the disguise as well as I did.
“He is riding east. Follow him. Soon after the border of the Fourteenth Kingdom you will find a boulder at the crossroads with words on it; never mind what they say.”
Of course. The man couldn’t read. Not uncommon.
“Most of the people at this boulder turn back,” Vassily went on. “If Ivan does, you and your men will meet him on your way. If not, he would go right. Father didn’t give him much of a horse.” He grinned. “Ivan would think nothing of parting with it.”
“Parting with the horse?” the man in the peasant outfit asked. “Why?”
“Never mind that,” Vassily snapped. “Turn right, but don’t go too far. You’ll probably see the fool wandering around on foot. Whatever you do, don’t go into the glade that opens out from the woods.”
“But why?”
“There are beasts in the glade. They attack any horse that enters the glade. I expect Ivan will lose his, by the time you get there. Without his horse he cannot go far. He should be easy prey for you and your men.”
