by Anna Kashina
As she swallowed the bittersweet drink, she trembled from head to toe, and, with a small shudder, moved on like a sleepwalker, guided by the women’s hands.
I served the drink to my father, briefly meeting his dark impenetrable gaze, and continued to hold out the ladle for each and every one of my subjects, trying to distance myself from the power of the brew until the giant kettle was almost empty, and there were no more people waiting to receive their share.
By now everyone crowded at the edge of the Sacrifice Pool, carrying tiny candles they would later put into their flower-wreaths before they sent them floating on the waters of the lake. It was the Solstice way of fortune-telling. If a wreath floated for a long time, its owner’s fortune was good. If it sank straight to the bottom, it meant death. Tiny dots of candles reflected in the dark, still waters of the lake like stars, flickering in the slight movement of the night air.
Two women at Alyona’s sides pulled off her white dress, leaving her naked. She was to be given to Kupalo as a bride, and her white garments had to fall for their wedding night. I admired her beauty in the wavering candlelight. She may have been imperfect as a common village girl, but the aura of the Solstice made her look like an immortal spirit of the river. Everyone stepped aside as I approached her and laid my hands on her shoulders. Then I spoke, for the first time since the beginning of the evening.
“Great God Kupalo,” I said. “Accept this maiden as our gift to your powers and a token of the coming season. May love stay with your subjects, may our fields be fertile and our cattle be aplenty, may you take what you need and leave us what you will.”
I kissed her on the forehead again, and this time the star faded; she opened her eyes as if awakening, and looked at me with terror, shivering from head to foot.
“Go,” I whispered to her, turning her around and pushing her gently toward the water.
Her legs trembled, but she managed to take those few necessary steps forward before they gave way. Luckily, it was enough. With the last step she sank into the whirlpool.
She disappeared from sight almost instantly, without struggle. As the water covered the top of her head, her lily wreath came loose, floated a little way, then sank beside her.
I let out a barely perceptible sigh. It was done. Another season. Another Solstice.
I shut my eyes as I sensed my father step up beside me.
“Marya,” he whispered. “Well done. Now, bring her to me.”
I felt his shiver, sensed his anticipation as it echoed through me. I stretched out my thoughts, searching—
—a movement in the bushes invaded on my concentration, approaching, morphing into loud cracking as somebody pushed his way through the thicket to the shore by the Sacrifice Pool.
I opened my eyes.
The boy, Ivan, stood in front of me. His shirt was torn at the shoulder and bits of branches stuck out of his hair. And, he was smiling with that foolish smile of his. I felt a rush of warmth as I met his gaze and resisted an urge to smile back as I lowered my eyes to his outstretched hand.
He held—
A vial of glowing liquid.
“I’m back, Marya,” he said. “I fulfilled your task. I brought it to you.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
It simply couldn’t be.
Not now.
“What is this?” I demanded.
Ivan’s smiled widened. He looked like a proud child bringing his mama a prize.
“Water of Life,” he said. “From the Hidden Stream. Just like you asked. And, it is still Solstice night. So, I have fulfilled your task, beautiful Marya. And now—”
“This can’t be,” I whispered. “I don’t believe you. You couldn’t have done it. I gave you a task impossible to fulfill.”
My father stepped between us. “Begone, boy! we’ll deal with you later.”
Ivan’s gaze hardened. “You haven’t devoured the virgin soul yet, Kashchey, And I won’t let you. Not this time.”
“Oh, yes? And you can stop me?”
A low growl came from the darkness, and my father froze.
A great shape stepped from behind Ivan.
“I can,” Wolf said.
He looked exactly like a wolf, but his head came up almost to Ivan’s shoulder. A giant wolf. A beast of great magic. I suddenly realized that the space around us was empty. With the Sacrifice over, all the people had already returned to the glade and the bonfire to partake in the food and merrymaking. It was just the four of us by the water. Me and my father. Ivan and the Gray Wolf.
“I will stop you, Kashchey,” Wolf said. “Now, boy—”
But Ivan wasn’t listening. He stood by the edge of the water, a glowing vial in his hand.
“I can bring her back,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “She—she doesn’t deserve to die. Not like this.”
“Don’t you dare,” Wolf warned him.
Ivan raised his eyes and looked at all of us. His gaze softened as it slid over me, and I felt a warmth flow through me again, as if I was touched by a passing beam of sun. Then, he pulled off his shirt and I finally saw it live. A birthmark shaped exactly like an arrow. It marked his left shoulder, tilted to point more of less straight at his heart, and in the light of the candles now floating on the lake in their boats of flower wreaths, it glistened almost like gold.
On the night of the Solstice, a hero of legend cometh marked by an arrow through turmoil and gloom. How could I remember these words so well when I only heard them once?
“Forgive me,” Ivan said. “But I can’t do it any other way.”
He jumped into the Sacrifice Pool and disappeared underwater.
I felt the air swish around me, as if the forest itself exhaled a breath it was holding. My heart quivered as I looked at the water that rippled briefly and closed over his head. So quickly.
“Good,” my father said. “He saved us the trouble.”
Wolf’s muttered curse made the grass around his feet wither and turn yellow.
I stepped closer to the water, my eyes straining to make out shapes in the turmoil under its dark surface.
I could see no movement down there.
There was no escape from the Sacrifice Pool.
Ivan
Ivan was a good swimmer, yet no skill, no strength could possibly work against the deadly pull he felt. The waters grabbed his body like a rag and drew him down, down, straight to the weeds on the bottom.
His vision faded as he descended, but he could still see another body tangled in the weeds down there. A naked woman.
Dead.
“Alyona—” he whispered mutely, moving his lips against the sandy thickness of the cold water. It was getting darker. The fingers of the current tangled the weeds around his struggling legs. His arm brushed the skin of Alyona’s lifeless hand and sank into the silky green of the weed thicket.
His lungs were burning. Soon, he would have to take a breath.
One—last—breath—
It was useless to fight. He could no longer tell if it was getting darker because of the deepening night or because his eyes refused to serve him anymore. He forced his eyes to stay open, straining to see light up above, at the lake’s surface.
Marya—
Wolf—
I have—failed—you—
There is no—forgiveness—for what I have done—
I didn’t listen—
I failed—
Forgive me. Forgive me if you can.
He opened his mouth to take a breath.
And closed it again.
A hollow string of a reed descended from the surface. It forced itself through his clenched teeth. Then, a voice he didn’t recognize whispered into his ear.
“Blow out the water. Then, breathe through the reed.”
He grasped it.
Blow out—
Breathe—
Air rushed to his burning lungs.
Air.
“Breathe,” the voice said. “Breathe, Ivan the F
ool.”
He did. For a while all he could focus on was the flow of air—so painfully slow through the thin reed—into his hungry lungs. He gathered a whole chestful of it and held it in until he felt he would burst. Then, he let it out, watching the bubbles rise in silvery trails up to the surface.
For a while his life narrowed to just breathing—breathe in, breathe out. At first, he gave no thought to the voice he’d heard so effortlessly as if they two were standing in the middle of a forest glade. Then, as his breathing became almost normal, he began to wonder.
He tried to turn his head, but his body was now so tangled in the weeds he couldn’t move.
He tried to speak. Words came out as a gurgle, filling his mouth with muddy water.
“Who are you?”
He heard laughter. A girlish giggle.
“Don’t try to speak. Just think. Underwater, your thoughts are loud as bells. I’m not deaf.”
Who are you? he thought.
“You don’t remember me? I’m Oksana, the Wandering Light, remember? You gave me my nickname less than a fortnight ago. Do you remember?”
Oksana. The kikimora from Leshy’s swamp.
Of course he remembered. Even without the uncanny laughter, he would never be able to forget the undead child with glowing tree rot in her hands. Her eyes—he would never forget her eyes.
How did you find me?
She giggled again. “I’m glad you remember me, Ivan the Fool. It’s so sweet of you to think you could never forget me! I will always remember you too. That’s why I followed you when I saw you making your way here. These waters connect to our swamp, you know. When the bodies rot here and the pieces start falling off, some of them come to us in the swamp and our animals—they all have such a feast! I wish I could enjoy rotten meat as much as they do! But I don’t eat those things anymore…” She chattered away, just like a lonely child who finally found a playmate. “The animals would like to come here and get the rotting meat, but they shouldn’t, you know. The swamp—that’s Uncle Leshy’s place, but here on the lake, it all belongs to Uncle Vodyanoy. You know him of course, don’t you?”
The Water Man. I know of him, he thought wearily. If Leshy plays riddles that one can sometimes win, Vodyanoy plays in drowning people. One can never win that game.
She stopped chattering to listen to his thoughts and then floated into view from behind him—a little girl in a loose white dress. She still held her glowing piece of wood, unnaturally bright in the dimness at the bottom of the lake. Ivan briefly wondered how could wood continue to glow underwater, but it didn’t really matter. Not in his sorry state, with Oksana his savior and his only company. He focused on watching her hair instead, falling in waves over her shoulders—as if she wasn’t underwater but was standing in the middle of her little island amidst the swamp.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Ivan the Fool,” she said solemnly. “Uncle Vodyanoy is very kind. He plays with me. He brings me toys sometimes. Uncle Leshy never does.”
Of course, he thought. My mistake. Sorry.
“You haven’t heard the best part yet.” She leaned in to Ivan so that their noses almost touched, her eyes shining with mischief. “He said, because I’m such a good playmate, and you’re my friend, he’s going to let you go. And, if you want, you can take her as well.” She nodded at Alyona’s body, tangled in the weeds beside him. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? Even though the animals in the swamp will be very disappointed. No rotten meat this time.”
Vodyanoy would do that? Really?
“Yes!” she giggled again. “I told you he’s real nice!”
Yes, he is, Ivan though wholeheartedly. Only, even if he lets me go, there’s no way I can untangle myself from these weeds.
“Not by yourself,” she agreed. “The rusalkas will help you.”
Rusalkas?
He felt cold fingers pull at the weeds around his legs and turned to see pale shapes moving in the murky waters. Now they looked like women and then, when they turned, they looked more like giant scaly pike. Rusalkas. He’d heard about them. Leshy and Vodyanoy, the two brothers, spawned many curious creatures.
They untangled Alyona’s body while he watched, and then the underwater current caught it, flipped it over, and gently dragged it along the bottom.
“You can swim, can’t you?” Oksana asked.
Yes, I can, he thought. If the weeds don’t hold me again.
“They won’t,” she promised. “Just swim downstream and come out on shore over there. You can take her.” She nodded at Alyona’s body, disappearing into the darkness as the currents became bolder with it.
I don’t know how to thank you Oksana, he thought. I -
“You already did,” she said. “You gave me my nickname. It’s been all right ever since. I’m not Oksana With No Nickname anymore. And uncle Leshy doesn’t tease me anymore. Now, they all know who I am!”
I’ll bring some meat for your swamp creatures, he promised. A whole cow, if you want.
“No,” she twitched her nose. “They could never eat a cow. But you can throw in some rabbits over there. Skinned. They’d like that.”
She turned and moved away in the water. Or, she didn’t exactly move, but suddenly she was standing several paces away. Her outline began to fade.
Thank you, Oksana!
“Think nothing of it, Ivan the Fool! Until next time!”
And then she was gone.
He clenched the lifesaving reed between his teeth and swam ahead to catch up with Alyona’s body. It had caught on a boulder and was lying still, curved around the rough stone surface. He turned it over and hauled it onto his back. The body was limp and it caught on reeds and underwater boulders as he hauled it along. But, if nothing else interfered, he would be able to take it up to the shore, just visible in the gloom ahead.
He grasped a dead arm firmly and kicked toward the shore.
Marya
The silence grew heavy between us. Raven flew out of the darkness and landed on a nearby branch.
He never came around for the Solstice Sacrifice. He looked so out of place in the moonlit glade by the water. Even though I knew of his nightly forays to this spot, he belonged on his perch in my room, a comfortable companion in my lonely hours.
He briefly glanced at the dark waters of the pool and looked away as he settled on the protruding branch. “I couldn’t miss the prophecy coming true.”
“You just did,” my father said. “The boy sacrificed himself to Kupalo.”
I looked at Wolf, a knot of grayness against the dark forest. He faded into the background as his yellow eyes shut for an endless moment, but then they opened again, and more grass withered under his feet.
Then, he pricked his years and stood up, his Primal senses catching something that eluded the rest of us.
In a few moments we all heard it.
Distant splashing, a rustling of reeds around the bend of the lake, a faint sound that became louder as something—somebody-came crushing toward us through the forest undergrowth.
A silhouette took shape, visible through the reed-choked shoreline against the flashes of the bonfire. A man carrying something heavy in his arms. A body…A naked woman.
“Alyona.” My eyes welled with tears as I watched Ivan lay her gently on the ground at our feet.
She looked quite dead. Splotches of green weeds covered her arms and legs and tangled in her long wet hair. She was paler than the moon now shining brightly in the sky, and her half-opened eyes held no spark of life in them. Her skin was torn where her body must have brushed against underwater rocks, and a grimace of agony bared her teeth, twisting her once pretty face into an ugly snarl.
I felt nausea rise, as if somebody had punched me in the stomach. My legs folded under me and I sank to the ground by Alyona’s side. Tears prickled at the back of my throat. I swallowed them, forced them down as I took her cold stiff hands, clenched together in what must have been an attempt to free herself from the deadly weeds.
>
Never before had I been forced to see the result of my deeds. And now, there was no way to deny this anymore. I killed her. I had killed many others before her.
What have I done?
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I made no move to hold them back anymore.
“Don’t worry, Marya,” Ivan said gently. “She will be all right.”
Once again, he pulled out the glowing vial from his belt. Mesmerized, I watched him open the lid and sprinkle water over Alyona’s body.
As soon as the droplets touched her face, her grimace smoothed into a peaceful expression. Color flowed back into her cheeks. Her eyes closed and then reopened, filled with new life.
“Mistress,” she whispered.
I wanted to speak, to reassure her that it was all over, but the treacherous tears were back in my throat. I held the tears back. My voice stayed with them. All I could do was shake my head, clenching her now-warm hand in both of mine.
I had never seen the Water of Life do its work before.
The words of the prophecy rang in my head. He bringeth new life for the new sacrifice.
I looked at Ivan in wonder. How did he do it?
And then another, horrifying thought came, unbidden. What will happen to my father now, without a soul to feed him?
“Get up, girl,” the Gray Wolf said to Alyona. “It’s over. Nobody is going to hurt you again.”
“Here is your dress,” Ivan said, reappearing from somewhere with her ceremonial dress in his hands.
We helped her back into the dress and I smoothed her hair, still unable to speak. Then Praskovia and her maids stepped out of the forest from the direction of the bonfire glade and silently led Alyona away.
“Now,” my father said to Ivan. “Give me back the Needle.”
The Gray Wolf stepped forward to Ivan’s side. “I’ve volunteered to be its keeper, Kashchey. We have some business to finish.” He smacked his lips and I saw the glistening Needle sticking out of his mouth, between his teeth, just as if he were chewing a glistening stem of grass.
I saw my father go pale.
“Give it to me!” he demanded.
