“What was that?” she asked, her hand was trembling in his.
“You can feel that. The tingling?”
“Yes.”
“Skazki will open soon and the forest will become the Otherworld. That’s what you can feel. I have never been able to pass through the gates without a gatekeeper’s help. The firebird’s power should change that.” A wolf howled again and they both started to run.
“Vischto will try to stop us entering,” Yvan said. “He won’t be able to cross without Vasilli.”
Anya slowed as she saw a blue shimmer through the trees. “What is that?” she asked and pointed.
“That’s our way in.” Yvan headed towards the shimmer.
“It looks like an aurora,” Anya said when they stopped in front of it.
“I hope it lets you through,” Yvan said unexpectedly, like the thought had only just occurred to him.
“It’s a little late to be thinking like that,” Anya said sharply. Vischto jumped through the trees, landing only metres from them and let out a blood-chilling howl. Without hesitation Yvan jumped through the light. Anya saw his faint outline on the other side. Anya tried pushing her way through but it was resisting her. Vischto was moving in on her slowly and purposefully.
“Let me in dammit!” Anya cursed and punched with all her might. Something burned up through her and she fell through the wall of light just as Vischto attacked. She landed heavily on the forest floor scraping the palms of her hands. Yvan helped her to her feet.
“I thought it wasn’t going to be let you through,” he said looking very pale.
“It wasn’t,” she replied as she brushed the leaf litter off her trousers. He picked the leaves out of her tangled hair.
Through the sheer blue light they saw Vischto throw himself against the wall in frustration.
“We need to keep moving,” Yvan said firmly.
Anya turned and followed Yvan into the darkness without looking back. Her skin was still tingled all over and she rubbed at her arms to stop it. Yvan’s hand found hers in the dark.
“Don’t get lost,” he said and Anya saw the flash of his smile through the gloom.
“How come he couldn’t get through?”
“He needs Vasilli’s magic. Not much can get through a gate without the help of a powerful magic user or a gatekeeper. Sometimes gatekeepers will lay a charm on someone which can make it so they can pass through. They don’t give it lightly. You might as well leave your guns here. They won’t fire in Skazki. Real world science will not work in the Otherworld. There is real magic here and guns will be a dead weight to carry.” Anya placed them regretfully next to a tree and followed Yvan into the night.
Anya woke cocooned in dry autumn-coloured leaves. Sunlight dripped through the branches and the world felt warm and close.
The firebird studied Anya from the open top of Yvan’s shirt, its golden head sticking out of his chest. Unnerved Anya reached across and pulled the shirt over to cover its head. The movement woke Yvan and he looked at her sleepily.
“Sorry, the firebird was being creepy,” she apologised.
“Or you just wanted to touch me,” he joked lamely.
“Please!” Anya said with a rolling her eyes.
“I thought you would still be asleep. We only stopped running two hours ago.”
Anya yawned dramatically. “Go back to sleep. I will drift off eventually.”
“We will need to move on in an hour or so,” said Yvan as his eyes shut again. “It’s going to be a long day and a longer night.”
Anya went to answer him but was asleep again before her lips began to move.
***
Look through the glade to where two exhausted travellers sleep. A fox pads his way silently through the leaf litter towards them. He is curious because humans are rarely seen in this part of the forest.
He sniffs the woman cautiously. She smells strongly of Mir. Colours swirl around her brightly. There is strong raw magic here but it is buried deep.
He sniffs the man and smells a bird. Curious, he sniffs further towards the opening of the man’s shirt. A bird leaps out and snips the fox’s nose with its sharp beak.
“Gods!” the fox curses as it jumps out of harm’s way.
Be gone, a voice touches the fox’s mind. His tail standing on end the fox turns and bolts from the glade. He knows who would pay for such a shocking revelation. A firebird has returned to Skazki!
See the old bent crone standing in front of a bubbling cauldron in the middle of a cottage made of bones. She is stirring her soup slowly, humming with pleasure. It had been a long time since a child wandered through to Skazki and across her path. It had been a petulant creature and she had to cackle that Mir people had stopped telling their children the old stories about her. Hopefully more unsuspecting children would come and she would grow fat on their dreams before getting fat on their flesh. She could never have such fun in Mir; too many rules there, too many people watching her.
“Hey Old Iron Teeth!” a voice calls up to her, “I have information for you! Let down your house and I shall share it with you.” Baba Yaga continues to stir before finally relenting. The cabin wobbles slightly as it lowers its chicken legs and comes to rest on the ground.
The shiny black nose of a fox appears through her door before the rest of it steps tentatively across the wooden floor to where she’s cooking. A pile of children’s clothes lie discarded in a corner of the room. The fox knows what she is cooking and holds back a shudder. There are some things even foxes know better than to eat.
“What is it you wish to tell me?” Baba Yaga asks. “Be warned if you lie to me I shall eat another of your cubs.”
“There are Mir visitors in the forest,” he says.
“And?”
“There is a woman and she has power.” The fox licks his lips nervously as the old witch stops stirring. “And there is a man from Skazki with her and he is split in two.”
“How is he split in two?” she asks and turns to face him.
“He shares his body with a firebird,” mumbles the fox. Baba Yaga stares intently at him and he feels her moving in his mind searching for the lie in his tale. He thinks of the bird and how it bit his nose.
She starts to laugh hysterically. “Finally! He has been reborn and he brings the girl to me at last.”
“My debt?” asks the fox hopefully.
“It has been paid,” the witch snaps. “Now leave before I change my mind and add fox to my stew.” The fox doesn’t need to be asked twice. He bolts through the door just as it snaps shut taking part of his tail. Baba Yaga shuffles over to her loom and checks through her weave again. Yes, it was almost time for her plans to come into fruition. Her gnarled hand strokes the lid of a wooden crate and she feels the power of the game board inside of it. Yes, it was almost time.
***
Back in the glade Anya dreamt. She is dressed in wolf furs standing in front of a roughly constructed stone altar. There is an army in the cold, winter forest behind her. They are waiting for a battle to start. The smell of fear, mud and blood hangs in the air. Warriors stamp their feet in an effort to warm themselves. They are waiting for her to complete a sacrifice to help ensure the army’s victory. They know the stories of her power and a good omen from her would change the course of their war.
The altar before her is stained a reddish brown and is charred from the hundreds of sacrifices shamans have made here. She picks up a small black goat and places it lying down on the cold surface. It looks up at her with sad, drugged eyes. She pulls out a long knife with a handle carved like a snarling bear. With two precise cuts she opens the goat’s throat and stomach. Blood and entrails spill out onto the stone. Using her knife blade she moves the gory mess around before reaching to her belt and pulling out the leather pouch holding her rune stones. Dipping her finger into the blood she quickly marks each stone. She cuts her finger and marks them again.
“Shamanitsa…” a voice behind her tries to draw her attention
. It is the Tsar of the army waiting nervously in the forest. She doesn’t answer him. He is impatient and her art is not a thing to be hurried. He has raped her every night since he captured and brought her there. She plans on killing him as soon as she has the chance. There are some actions that are unforgivable, even for desperate Tsars in the middle of a war.
Taking a deep breath and steadying her thoughts she breathes onto the stones in her hand and begins to sing. She feels power rush through her veins as the song twists and forms. It has no words. The men guarding her step back in fear. Finally the song ends and she casts the stones across the bloody altar. What she sees makes her heart glow with satisfaction.
“Shamanitsa, answer me,” the Tsar demands.
“Victory,” she says bluntly as she turns to face him. For the army, she thinks smugly, not for you.
“Good,” he says. “You are free to go, witch. If you have lied I will find you and kill you myself.” She doesn’t thank him. She gets her rune stones together and walks into the forest. She climbs to the top of the hill and from the cliff face watches the battle that which begun. Tuoni appears beside her. He is dressed in black cotton, strong leather and has a sword on his back. He looks like a warrior.
“Kill him,” she says harshly. “As painfully as possible. Let him be just alive enough to feel the crows pluck out his eyes.”
Tuoni takes her by the shoulders and turns her to face him. “Remember this Anya. Dreams have power; they show old truths you are too blind to see on waking. They make you remember memories that are lost in the blood flowing through your veins. Remember her magic. Remember what she did when you wake,” he says before he pushes her off the cliff.
***
Anya’s body jerked awake. The dream came back to her and she started to sweat. Her shoulders hurt where Tuoni had pushed her. She could still smell burning flesh and her brain was humming with the words to the song which weren’t words at all. Yvan crashed through the trees and pulled her to her feet.
“We have to go,” he said urgently. Panic was pouring off him and which scared her more than the dream. “What just happened? What the hell did you do?”
“I was dreaming,” Anya stammered and wiped the sweat from her face.
“You were projecting in your sleep,” said Yvan. “Dreams have power in Skazki. I don’t know what you dreamed about but it just sent out a magical beacon saying, ‘Here I am.’ Gods knows who and what it’s going to attract.”
“What does it matter who it attracts? There is no way Vasilli could have caught up to us yet,” she said unable to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“You don’t understand,” muttered Yvan.
Anya stopped moving. “Then explain it to me.” He grabbed her arm and forced her to start walking again.
“There are Powers in Skazki, in the whole of the Otherworld. They are the main rulers here. Everyone falls under allegiance to one or the other, even the Tsars pacify them. Very few beings aren’t obligated to one of them. It’s a lifetime bond if you owe them a favour,” Yvan explained. “When someone potentially powerful enters their realms they know and they will try to make you obligated to them.”
“But I am not powerful. They couldn’t have an interest in me! If they have an interest in anyone it’s you and that fucking bird.”
“You have power,” Yvan yelled in frustration. “You just don’t know how to use it which is worse because they could mould you anyway they like.”
“They can go to hell,” Anya yelled back. “If I can’t use it no one can.”
“You are acting very stupidly. Think what you are saying. These beings are so powerful they could make you believe anything. One spell, one cantrip and you would be their willing slave. You have no way to protect yourself. You are defenceless against them.”
They walked for the next hour in a very crowded Silence. Anya could feel the capital S. Yvan, who had begun to loosen up in the past day, was back to being up-tight and short tempered. She wanted to say sorry for behaving like a child, but couldn’t quite muster it. With Eikki she used to be able to hug him and he would know she was sorry. She wasn’t game enough to touch Yvan.
The dream had scared her. It had felt so real. The buzzing in her head was becoming more intense.
“Do you have any weapons?” he asked eventually.
“I have a knife in my bag.” It had been a fishing knife Eikki had given her. Yvan made her take it out and tuck it in her belt with her shirt covering it.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked, fearing he would go back to being silent.
“As soon as we find a road or a village I will know. Skazki tends to change when you aren’t paying attention, just like the rest of the Otherworld,” Yvan said. “I am focussed on getting us as far away from the forest as possible. Thanks to your dreaming who knows what will be following us.”
They stumbled through the trees and onto a dirt road. “Which way?” Anya’s ribs were aching from trying to keep up with Yvan’s long strides and the sun had started to go down. She turned to look at Yvan who was standing rigidly, staring at something past her left shoulder.
“Should I turn around?” whispered Anya as the hair on her neck rose.
“Come slowly to me,” said Yvan. “Get behind me.” Anya turned as a rider moved from the edge of the forest and stopped in the middle of the road.
The rider was a shaggy man the colour of dried blood. He was filthy and matted with gore. His red eyes glowed in the failing light. In one hand he held a long crude spear covered in old blood. His horse was massive and was the same bloody red.
“We have no quarrel with you or your mistress,” Yvan told the Red Rider.
“You have been summoned nonetheless. She does not like to be kept waiting. I have been instructed to take you by force if necessary.”
“You could ask politely,” said Anya.
“He just did,” Yvan said before turning back to the Red Rider. “Lead the way. We would be honoured to meet your mistress.”
The Red Rider steered his horse in the opposite direction. “Don’t even think to run. The Black Rider is waking in the woods and he is not as polite as I,” he called to them.
“What the hell is going on?” Anya asked Yvan. He was silent for a few minutes before turning to face her.
“Tell me, Anya,” he said softly. “Have you ever heard of Baba Yaga?”
Chapter Seven - Bones
Anya had never seen a house uglier house than Baba Yaga’s. It was made entirely of mouldy bones in the same interlocking design as a log cabin. A thorny garden grew as high as the fence and skulls, bleached white by the sun, capped each fence post. Two enormous scaly chicken legs came out on either side of the house.
Anya snorted in amusement and disgust. Yvan, she noticed, had turned an interesting shade of grey. The Red Rider disappeared back through the trees and left them waiting.
“Come on, lets get this over with,” Anya sighed.
“You should be more afraid,” Yvan muttered.
“Why would I be afraid of a shitty old house and a gnarly old witch who waylays travellers even though they have done her no harm,” Anya yelled towards the house.
“By all means do come in, loud-mouthed girl,” a voice reached out to them. The gate and the door to the house silently opened for them. The smell of cooking meat reached Anya’s nose. It wasn’t a comforting smell and it set her nerves humming.
“No,” Anya yelled back before adding quietly to Yvan, “I know the stories. If we go in there we don’t ever come out.”
Baba Yaga appeared in the garden. She looked Anya up and down with beady black eyes. She had chaotic grey hair and a smile made of iron. Anya felt pressure build behind her eyes but she pushed it back as hard as she could. The old witch shuddered once and the pressure stopped. “Ah, Yanka I thought you were dead,” she cackled.
“Your memory must be fading in your old age. My name is not Yanka,” Anya said firmly. Yanka; that name sounded so familiar but Anya co
uldn’t place it.
“I heard she had crossed to Mir and bred with a filthy human! And here is her spawn, in the company of Vyslav’s son and a firebird.”
Yvan opened his mouth to protest but Baba Yaga held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t even bother to deny it,” she snapped. “I can smell its magic from here.”
“What is it you want?” Anya demanded. “We have nothing.” This woman from the stories Eikki used to tell her was more overwhelming in the flesh. She wanted to turn and run.
“Oh really? And how could it be that Yanka’s blood knows what I want?” Baba Yaga said. “As it turns out I have something you want.”
“I doubt it.”
“You have no idea who you really are and what powers you actually have,” said the witch. “I could tell you, I could show you child.”
“At what price though,” muttered Yvan.
“It is cheap for what I offer,” smiled Baba Yaga. “I want Yanka’s Rune stones.”
“I’d rather not know. Ignorance seems like bliss,” Anya stated.
“What about if you give us the directions we need?” Yvan asked, “We would like to leave your forest.”
“For the Runes?”
“It is a different thing we bargain for and at a different cost.”
“And what do you offer?” Baba Yaga still hadn’t taken her hungry eyes off Anya which was starting to annoy her. She remembered what Yvan said about the Powers wanting to use her and she moved closer to him.
“How about a feather from the firebird?” Yvan said. “You know what it could be used for and you know it is over-paying for a simple thing such as directions.”
“And where would it be that you wish to go?” the old witch asked, rubbing her hands together.
“We want a straight passage through Skazki,” said Yvan. “One which doesn’t involve getting waylaid by any of the Powers.”
“I don’t know all the ways of the Otherworld but I have an item in my possession that will,” Baba Yaga grunted. “You better make it a good feather.” She turned and went back into the cottage.
Cry of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 1) Page 6
