“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Anya. “I don’t think we can trust her.”
“Anya?”
“Yes?”
“Look away, I am about to take my clothes off so I don’t destroy them,” said Yvan. “I know how nudity makes you nervous.”
“It doesn’t if I have something worth looking at.” She turned her back and heard Yvan start to whimper slightly as the transformation began. She turned just as he burst into flames. The firebird let out a joyful cry as it launched up into the sky. It floated through the air like a kite of fire.
“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” said Baba Yaga as she came out of the cottage again. “Two creatures sharing the same body is tricky business especially with one more powerful than the other. It will get frustrated and try to take over. People will come after it wanting its magic. You are better off letting him go on his own and staying here to become my pupil.”
“Is that what Yanka did?”
The old witch spat on the ground before answering. “She should have. She had too much power in her that she didn’t know what to do with. I heard she blew herself up but looks like she must have gone to Mir after all.” She grunted again. “Her talent would have been wasted there.”
“Perhaps it got too much,” Anya found herself saying. “In Mir she would be safe from it because it doesn’t flow as strong there.”
“It would explain why you are such an untrained, bad mannered nuisance,” she snapped. “It will start to consume you too if you do not learn how to control it. You look like her…Same eyes, same hair.” She stretched a bony hand to touch it but Anya side stepped her.
“I was only told there was magic in my family the day before he hatched in my house,” said Anya and pointed up at the frolicking bird. She wished he would come down so she could get away from the old witch.
“You are too much like her so they probably didn’t want to encourage it.You should stay here. Let him go.” Anya felt the pressure moving gently behind her eyes again and she slammed it back. She turned angrily to face the old witch who was smirking.
“Stop it, stay out of my head,” she said as she clutched her skull. “I will not leave him.”
“He is already clouding your judgement, foolish child. I can’t believe Yanka produced such an idiot,” snarled the witch. The pressure vanished from her head and Anya breathed deeply with relief. Anya watched the firebird land softly on the ground.
“If you don’t mind I would like us to get on with it,” Baba Yaga insisted. The bird ruffled itself up and selected a feather before pulling it out. It screeched angrily as Yvan started to push his way back through until at last he was naked and shaking before her with the feather in his hand. Anya handed him back his clothes and he put them on slowly, his body obviously sore from the transformation. The tattoo moved itself back into place and Yvan held out the feather to Baba Yaga. She handed him a round leather bag the size of a small plate.
“Place Raidho from Yanka’s runes on the drum, ask it for guidance, beat the drum and it will show you the way,” Baba Yaga said as she tucked the feather away in a fold in her robes. “There is a village not far from here. I suggest you get there as quickly as possible. If you are still in my forest at full night I will get my Black Rider to kill you.”
***
Vasilli had torn apart the little cabin in the forest but hadn’t found his brother or anything he could use. He was slightly impressed with the sauna room where a shaman had been practicing magic. He knew the family was Yanka’s blood and therefore had an old magical bloodline but the Darkness was under the impression it had almost gone. The girl was completely untrained but whoever had practiced in the sauna had been well learned in the old ways.
Vasilli had searched the surrounding forest without any success. In his haste to get into Skazki his horse had tripped over a rotting log and broke its leg. He had liked his horse but he still cut its throat and continued on foot.
“There is a camp up ahead,” Vischto trotted beside him. “There is a horse you can use.”
“Good. Make a distraction,” Vasilli commanded. He stopped outside the camp to watch and wait.
The Red Rider sat by the fire and waited for the rabbit to cook. It had been a slow day; hardly anyone lived in the forest to kill or torment. The only thing he had done was escort two strangers to Baba Yaga and he wasn’t even allowed to play his games with them. She had a purpose for letting them go and the Red Rider knew better than to question Baba Yaga.
A sharp howl pierced the cold night and the Red Rider tensed. His spear was on the other side of the fire. As he made a jump for it a dark figure leapt from the trees, grabbed the spear and drove it deep into the Red Rider’s chest.
He sagged slowly to his knees as Vasilli quickly saddled the Red Horse and rode off through the trees. “Not again,” the Rider cursed as he pulled the spear out. “They will never learn.” Taking blood from his wound he scratched runes into the dirt, sending a message to his mistress.
Chapter Eight- The Tavern
Anya and Yvan ran down the road and as far from Baba Yaga as they could get. Anya didn’t know how far the forest stretched but she didn’t like the idea of meeting the Black Rider. “I cannot believe how disrespectful you were!” Yvan yelled at her. “She could have killed us both with a bat of her eyelid.”
“Why didn’t she then?” Anya shouted back. She tripped over a rock and Yvan spun to catch her. He gripped her hard by the shoulders. “Because she wants you,” he said through gritted teeth. “She wants you and so will all the other Powers. I don’t know how I am going to protect you when it gets out that Yanka’s blood walks in Skazki.” Anya thought he was going to shake her but he just pushed her away roughly.
“Why?”
“We shouldn’t talk about it here,” Yvan said as they pressed on. “There is more than Baba Yaga in this forest that will kill us.”
He was frightening her, which made her angry, and she knew she needed to walk away before she took it out on him. This talk of Yanka had worried her. She couldn’t believe she was so stupid she hadn’t remembered the name. She recalled Eikki mentioning Yanka once or twice, but always in passing to other people who came to visit him. Yanka had been some kind of descendent of theirs. Was she the woman in the dream who wanted to kill the Tsar so badly?
After what felt like hours, they ran until the faint lights of a village twinkled down in a little valley ahead of them. “Come on, we are almost there,” Yvan said, his tone gentle again. He didn’t seem like an angry spirited person but his temper seemed to burst unexpectedly and die just as quickly into a sulky simmer.
The village was quiet as they approached a tavern and hurried inside. It was filled with drinkers who reminded Anya of the old men from home. They looked like rough farmers and tradesman, their overalls and heavy woollen jackets stained with dirt. The room had a smoky air of filthiness created from the small clay pipes most of them were smoking. All of them stopped to stare at her.
“We need a room,” Yvan said bluntly to a man behind the bar, “We also need hot food if there is still any left.”
“Where are you coming from?” he asked suspiciously.
“Through the forest,” said Yvan in the same tone. “We have had a rough few nights. Please, a room.”
The barman looked like he was going to argue then thought better of it. He spat on the ground and grunted, “There is a wash house if your woman needs it.” Anya made a little snort at the “your woman” comment before disguising it as a cough. The barman yelled at a thin woman with a scarf wrapped so tightly about her head Anya wondered if she could breathe properly. She hurried them upstairs and let them into a small room with one bed, a pine chair and a fireplace.
“I will bring food up shortly,” she said as she handed Anya a towel. She curtsied to Yvan before hurrying from the room.
“I wonder if there is a seamstress in town,” Yvan said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “We are g
oing to need clothes and some supplies.” Anya didn’t say anything as she moved back towards the door. She needed some space and in a hurry. Yvan looked tired and she didn’t like that she was starting to notice him in that much detail. She didn’t need any more complications and caring for a complete stranger was complicated.
“I’m going for a bath,” she muttered and walked from the room. She heard Yvan sigh as she shut the door.
She found the small grubby washroom downstairs and scrubbed herself red raw. Clean and dry she made her way to the bar. They stared at her but she had been graced with plenty of disapproving glances in the past. She ignored them and sat down on a wooden stool, dumping her bag on the floor beneath her.
“Vodka,” she said to the barman.
“I don’t think your husband-” he began.
“What my husband would think is no concern of yours,” Anya said sharply. “Vodka.” With a shrug of his shoulders he handed her a large cup of vodka and left her be.
The vodka was as almost as strong as the stuff she brewed herself and the warm mist began to roll in. It calmed the incessant tingling under her skin she had felt since coming into Skazki. It didn’t take long for a man with a bushy beard to come and sit down beside her.
“What makes you think you can drink in this place, woman?”
“Because there is nowhere else,” she said calmly. She gave the barman a meaningful look and he refilled her drink without an argument.
“It’s going to be cold tonight,” the drunk mused. “How about I keep you warm?” He reached out a grubby hand to touch her shoulder. She grabbed it and crushed his fingers tightly. He yelped in surprise. She didn’t think her grip would have been strong enough to cause him any real pain.
“How about you let me worry about the cold,” she growled as she pushed his hand away. He flexed his fingers as if he didn’t realise what happened. Her fingers had marked them like a burn. He made another clumsy grab for her and Anya aimed a kick between his legs. Her boot kicked the edge of the seat instead, unbalancing the man and the stool, sending it backwards with a crash. A roar of laughter rose from the other drinkers and the man, red faced and angry, struggled to his feet.
“You stupid bitch,” he spat and raised a hand to hit her. Someone grabbed his arm from behind and as he turned Yvan punched him in the mouth. The man sagged to his knees.
“You don’t hit women,” Yvan said coldly as the man slumped to the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth and stained the floor red. The bar was silent as Yvan held Anya around her waist to steady her, picked up her bag and walked her back to their room.
“Yvan…I… I think I burned him,” she mumbled as he helped her sit down on the end of the bed. She leant down and tried to slip her boots off.
“What you think you did to him was nothing like the damage he could have done to you. You could have been hurt. Why don’t you ever think?” he said as he helped her unbuckle her boots. She couldn’t think of anything to say as he moved to sit down on the pine chair.
“You don’t understand,” Yvan continued. “If they find out who you are you will be taken to Baba Yaga or one of the other Powers who will use you as much as they can. You cannot draw attention to yourself in these places. These people live here but they are only mortal and are subject to the will of people with more power than them. Do you want Vasilli to find you? When he comes after us he will hear whispers of the two strangers who came to town and caused trouble.” He twisted his brown fingers over and over again. She placed her hand over them to still them.
“I am sorry. I was angry and I wanted a drink and…”
“I know. Go to sleep Anya,” Yvan muttered. “I will keep watch a while.”
Yvan watched Anya toss and turn in her sleep. She was dreaming again but she wasn’t producing any magical beacon for which he was grateful. She was already attracting too much trouble but the thought of leaving her to fend for herself wasn’t possible. He was going to need help protecting her. Trajan was close and they used to be friends. Trajan had known Ilya so he was familiar with Anya’s family at least. Yvan felt uneasy. He wondered if bringing another person into the mess would be a good idea. Especially someone like Trajan.
They will hunt her mercilessly once her potential is known, the firebirds voice whispered through his mind. Whatever your misgivings you will need help and what I offer. Let me out and I will cry tears of pearls to pay for the protection if she needs it.
Why are you so concerned about her well-being?
It was her touch that woke us from our long slumber, her power that broke our prison. Besides, you will not leave her; you are too honourable for that. What affects you will also affect me. You are becoming too fond of her already. Yvan didn’t reply but looked over at Anya’s tangled mass of fair hair. The firebird stretched itself underneath his skin impatiently. Yvan shut his eyes waiting for the pain to begin.
***
Anya woke at dawn and looked blearily around the room. Yvan wasn’t there. Her head pounded painfully when she tried to sit up so she sagged back down. After a few minutes the door opened and Yvan appeared carrying a tray of food.
“Good morning,” he said as he placed the tray on the edge of the bed. Anya groaned in reply. “Eat something and you will feel better.” He offered her a small cup of black coffee. “Drink this.” Anya sat up slowly, resting her back against the wall before she took it and sipped. The coffee seared her mouth and throat before flooding her stomach with warmth.
“God, that’s hot,” she said screwing her face up.
“It will give you an appetite,” Yvan smiled and drank his own.
“You look terrible. Didn’t you sleep at all?”
“A wooden chair isn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on.”
“You could have pushed me over the other side of the bed,” said Anya with a frown.
Yvan shrugged his big shoulders, “It would have been inappropriate.”
“Are you serious? It is sleep Yvan, not sex,” she laughed. “Oh I am sorry. I forgot you are very, very, very old.”
“Thank you for pointing that out,” Yvan said dryly. “Would you let any man you didn’t know share your bed?”
“Don’t say it like you think I am some kind of slut. I’m not.”
“Just eat something,” Yvan said and gave her a bowl of porridge. “You are becoming defensive over nothing. I have found a seamstress in town. There are a lot of things we need to get. You need to destroy any of the Mir clothing you brought with you.”
“I won’t destroy Eikki’s coat,” Anya said protectively. “I don’t care about the other stuff but that will not be taken from me.” She finished her porridge and was happy her stomach was keeping it down. Yvan paced the room, checking out the windows in an agitated sort of way.
“Vasilli can’t be far behind us,” he said in a hollow voice.
“Why doesn’t he attack us then?” she asked as she pulled her messy hair back into a ponytail.
“His is a dark magic,” explained Yvan, “He is most powerful at night. He will wait until then to attack.”
“So we run,” said Anya quietly as she picked up her bag.
“As hard and as fast as we can,” Yvan answered as he opened the door for her. “There are some people I can call on who might be able to help us.”
“I hope they have money to fund this game of hide and seek because I know I don’t.”
Yvan gave her an amused grin. “Let me worry about that.”
Yvan scanned the quiet street before stepping out of the tavern, Anya was silent behind him. The muscles in his back ached from his night in the chair but he was trying his best not to show it. Not that his effort had been appreciated. Give her time. She needs a hero. The firebird’s voice touched his mind.
Yvan didn’t reply as he led the way to the goods store on the other side of the village. He had used every ounce of his charm to convince the seamstress to open early for them. Even though it was barely dawn she was waiting for them w
ith steaming cups of thick, black coffee.
“It is not often we get strangers visiting,” she said as she narrowed her black eyes. Her round creased face looked grim wrapped in a grey scarf.
“We are just passing through,” said Anya when Yvan failed to think of anything to say. “I am Anya.”
“Call me Unä,” the woman said bluntly. “You clearly need another woman’s guiding hand, child. Lucky for you, you come to me.” Yvan half expected Anya to respond with a biting remark, but she just nodded. Unä held out her arm and Anya linked hers through it.
“You come with Unä. She will look after you,” she said and started to lead Anya away. Yvan made to follow but Unä held up a hand.
“You stay. Women’s business,” she snapped. Yvan stopped and sighed inwardly. Probably better that you don’t know, came the firebird’s voice.
“Oh shut up,” muttered Yvan.
Unä headed to the far side of the store, tut-tutting all the way. Anya didn’t know why she had let the old woman push her around. She seemed to have a matriarchal type of authority about her that Anya didn’t dare disobey.
“Now, where are you going and what will you need?” Unä questioned with her hands on her generous hips.
“I’m not sure exactly,” stammered Anya. “We are journeying and it’s shaping up to be rather perilous.”
“Heroes,” muttered Unä with a roll of her eyes. “They always seem to find a woman to drag along with them. They need us. For the brains.” She tapped Anya’s temple roughly to emphasise her point.
“You will need as much as you can carry. This means; four shirts, two pants, two vests, two boots, one light coat. You have a winter coat on you and it is very fine indeed,” rattled off Unä as her fingers felt the fur. “You need one brush, one balm but first you need a haircut.” Anya didn’t take any offence to this because she knew the woman was right.
“You sit,” she demanded and Anya sat on the wooden stool. From one of the folds of her apron Unä produced a pair of scissors, a small comb and proceeded to cut into Anya’s hair. It had been a long time since it had been cut and hung almost to her waist.
Cry of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 1) Page 7
