“You need weapon too. All women need weapon,” Unä said.
“I’ve got a knife.”
Unä stopped cutting. “Show me.” Anya hunted around in her bag and produced her knife. Unä took it from her and flipped it over a few times in her hand with an easy dexterity. If Anya had tried that she would have sliced her hands to pieces.
“Mir rubbish,” she muttered and before Anya could stop her Unä threw it at one of the hardwood poles supporting the roof. The knife blade snapped under the impact, breaking it at the handle.
“Like I said it’s Mir rubbish! You need a proper weapon,” Unä grunted as she continued to cut Anya’s hair.
“So it would seem,” said Anya as she looked at the broken knife pieces. Unä continued to cut and talk. She braided Anya’s hair for her and made her promise to take better care of it. An hour later Anya felt like a different person.
Unä had fitted her clothes perfectly to Anya’s shape. She now wore a soft maroon cotton shirt with fine black embroidery around its collar and bell sleeves. A dark brown vest went over the top and was buttoned tightly but was not uncomfortable. She also wore dark brown pants, tailored to the curve of her legs and boots made from reindeer leather and fur.
They gathered up the last of Anya’s Mir clothes and threw them into the fire. Anya picked up all the hair from the floor and threw it in too. For some reason she felt extremely liberated as she watched them burn. Unä watched her thoughtfully. There was something familiar about the woman and Anya couldn’t put her finger on it. She reminded her of the grandmothers in the village who used to cross themselves whenever Anya walked past because they thought her cursed, although they considered any woman over twenty and unmarried to be cursed.
“Come, let’s find the Hero.”
Yvan had gathered some clothes for himself as well as a small frying pan they could use to boil water and cook food in, a bed roll for each of them, fishing line and a pack full of dried foodstuffs for when they were desperate. He was looking at knives when he heard someone come up behind him.
“Are there any knives you think I might like? Unä broke mine.”
Yvan turned and he almost jumped at the transformation. She looked so different Yvan had to blink. “There may be a few you may like.” He cleared his throat and moved aside so she could see into the cabinet. His palms were starting to itch so he rolled them into tight fists. “You look different.”
“So do you,” said Anya as her eyes swept from his high black boots to his freshly combed hair. He wore a dark blue shirt and black vest with a three quarter length black leather riding jacket with black fur to keep him warm as the weather worsened. He felt a lump rise slowly in his throat as her eyes raked over him. Finally she smiled and turned back to the knife cabinet.
“Don’t look there; Unä has chosen special one for you,” the woman appeared out of nowhere making them both jump. She handed Anya a knife in a light brown leather scabbard. A fine leaf pattern had been pressed into the leather. Yvan watched Anya place her hand on the pine handle, a plain knife but sturdy and practical.
“Thank you. I am sure this will be useful.”
“If you come into any trouble, aim true and it will not let you down,” Unä replied sagely. “So Hero, I see you have organised yourself without my help. That is good. I could not have been bothered.”
“I am no hero,” said Yvan as he handed her a small leather pouch. He didn’t like that her words had echoed the firebird’s.
“You have the look of one,” said Unä as she tipped the bag up in her hand and pearls flooded her soft palm. “This seems to be a lot for what you have taken. Was there something else you wanted?”
“Just your silence. People may come looking for us and we were never here. Understand?” said Yvan and gave her a smile.
“Heroes!” Unä rolled her eyes. “It shall be done. You promise me one thing. You protect that girl. There is more to her than you can possibly imagine.”
Yvan didn’t like the greedy way Unä was looking at Anya. He felt surprisingly possessive and wanted to get Anya out of the village and away from those greedy eyes as fast as he could.
“We must go now,” he said to Anya. “We have a long day and possibly a longer night ahead of us.” She shoved her new knife down the side of her boot and stepped forward to hug Unä.
“Thank you for all of your help. I hope we meet again some day.”
“Yeah, yeah go, go,” Unä said roughly though Yvan noticed she looked very pleased. He shouldered his pack as Anya did the same and they stepped back out into the muddy street.
***
The old woman Unä hummed as she walked back through the store to where she had cut Anya’s hair. The girl had been very wise to burn all of her possessions, even more so to burn her all of her hair. But not all of it. One perfect platinum strand remained in the groove of the wooden floorboards.
Unä bent down, picked the strand up with her fingers and cackled with glee. She pulled out a small black box from her apron and placed the hair on the satin lining. She put the box away in the folds of her clothes and did a bandy legged dance. She had placed a charm on the knife so when thrown it will always fly true. On the bottom of the boots she had carved the sign of protection so Anya would not fall when running. She had also placed a tracking spell on both of them.
Unä stepped through the back door of the shop and headed for the forest. She would be keeping her inner eye close on Yanka’s blood. The store vanished as her glamour did and she smiled her true smile with a flash of iron.
Chapter Nine- Visits
Anya followed Yvan through the little village and into the woods on the other side. They hadn’t spoken much since leaving Unä’s and she was starting to wonder what had changed so much since then.
“Where to now?” Anya asked as cheerfully as she could muster. Yvan was doing his best not to look at her. “Stop Yvan, I have had enough. What is your problem? And where did you get those pearls to pay for all these clothes?”
“I had a rough night and I am tired. We have a long day ahead and we need to travel fast so we can get a head start on Vasilli. The pearls are from the firebird if you must know.”
“Did he lay them?”
Yvan did his best not to smile. “No. Don’t you know any of the old stories? Firebird tears turn into pearls. While you were sleeping last night I transformed and when I went back to being myself, there they were.”
“That’s incredible. Are you sure there is nothing else on your mind?”
“Nothing worth troubling you with. I want to find an old friend of mine. He can help us. He lives a few days from here when he is in Skazki. I am hoping he is staying at his house and hasn’t gone off to Mir again.” Yvan frowned as if a new thought occurred to him. “I hope he has not been killed.”
“I would think you would be more concerned with the fact he could be dead of old age. You have been in that egg for a long time.”
“He ages differently to mortals and he would be very hard to kill.”
That night they camped in a small dry cave. Yvan was still keeping to himself and Anya was starting to feel lonely. She took out one of Eikki’s journals and began to flick through the pages. It was filled with scraps of paper, strange symbols and small pictograms, sketches and occasional paragraphs in his tight neat handwriting, just one or two lines written almost as a reminder. Not every page was dated but one date in particular caught her eye. It had been her twelfth birthday.
Today would have been the first day of Anya’s initiation. It is hard not to start her teachings, she is already so talented. But I know it is the right thing to do. She is too much like Yanka. If I knew how strong she was it would be different. Zosi looked into her future and she saw blood and fear and power.
Anya shut the book loudly, making Yvan jump.
“What is it?”
“Eikki didn’t want to train me because I am too much like Yanka.”
“Why would he think that?”
; “He must have shown me to some people who knew her and they told him I was too much like her. Some woman called Zosi,” Anya said.
“There are certain people who could take your memories away. There wouldn’t be many who are still alive who knew Yanka and if Eikki was anything like Ilya he was very reluctant to share things that were too personal. He must have trusted this Zosi to show you to her. Yanka’s history is sketchy at best. She was very powerful and her battles with Baba Yaga were known from one side of Skazki to the other. It is possible they just didn’t want another war and thought you might start one if you came full into your power.”
“Maybe one of the people he showed me to was your friend who never seems to die,” Anya said.
Yvan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. I will have to ask him. He knew Eikki so he would know who she was too.”
Anya rolled herself in her blanket and stared into the fire, mad at herself for not remembering who Zosi was. Eikki wasn’t always the most popular person so visitors were a rare occurrence. The idea that someone could have stolen parts of her memory was incomprehensible to her. It made her worry what else had happened that she couldn’t remember.
Anya woke with a hard jerk. The fire had died down and Yvan was awake watching her. Outside the full moon had turned the beech forest into silver.
“Dreaming again?” he asked gently.
“Sorry if I kept you awake,” she apologised as she pushed her damp hair from her face.
“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Yvan said as he rolled onto his side to look at her more closely. “I feel like Vasilli is about to appear at any moment.”
“You fear him don’t you?”
“Very much, I don’t know how we are going to outwit him. But I know we must,” Yvan sighed deeply.
“Go to sleep Yvan, I will keep watch for a while. You are no good to me exhausted.” Anya couldn’t recall what exactly she had been dreaming about but it had left a scar in her mind and the sound of drums in her ears.
Anya woke the next morning to discover she was still alive, despite accidently falling asleep on watch. The forest was sighing with rain and Yvan was still snoring softly. She took a small pan and held it out in the rain to fill it up. Taking some of the dry wood Yvan had gathered the night before she built up the fire and placed the pan in the fire to heat up the water for coffee.
Anya felt grimy from a day of travelling and a night sleeping on the ground. After checking Yvan was still asleep she stripped off her boots and trousers and stepped out into the cold drizzle.
The forest itself wasn’t as dark as the cave but with the rain washing down the trees it had become sharp and beautiful in detail. Anya walked barefoot and enjoyed the cold water soaking through her long shirt to her skin. For the first time, in a long time Anya felt a lightness. The humming under her skin was settling and the urge to scratch herself wasn’t as strong. Realising how far she had walked she turned to hurry back before Yvan woke up.
***
A wolf walked nearby. Unlike Vischtan and Vischto, who were starved and small, this wolf was huge. His black pelt was thick and even weighed down by rain, glossy and sleek.
He could smell humans in the forest. He could smell magic. In Skazki magic was all around but there was something about this magic which made him wary. He padded silently and carefully as he followed the scent. As he approached the cave he smelt one human and a bird inside. The other trail headed away from the cave and into the forest, the scent familiar, like he had smelt it once before.
The trail through the pines and beech trees was bright red. He was surprised the other human couldn’t see it. She was walking slowly, not far from him. He could smell the moisture on her hot skin. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet. She stopped in her tracks and he moved silently behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks. She turned and he saw her face.
Oh no not her…he thought before turning and bolting back the way he came.
***
Two days later Anya was sick of the rain, no longer noticing how beautiful it made the forest look. She was tired, damp and cold and was over Yvan’s surly company. He became more serious with every step they took. She was getting headaches and had the shakes from not having any alcohol in days. Yvan was guarding the one bottle of vodka they had bought with them to stop her from downing the lot.
“Are you lost?” Anya asked for the third time that day. “I thought you said your friend’s house was only two days away.”
“I am not lost,” Yvan said with a barely restrained temper. “We are close, I know it. Things change in the time span of a hundred years. Especially in Skazki. Things can change daily.” He was walking ahead of her with his hood over his head. The only good thing that had happened was that Vasilli had not caught up to them. It was getting dark and they were still lost. When Anya was about to despair all together Yvan shouted, “Aha! I have found it!” Anya tried to see what he was so excited about. Beside the road was an oval block of slate.
“It looks like every other rock beside the road.”
“No, this is it. Come, we are almost there,” he said and took her hand.
There was barely a track through the woods and night was falling fast but Yvan managed to follow it and Anya managed to keep her mouth shut and not provoke him. The track widened out and there in front of them, hidden deep in the forest, was a house built of dark timber which time had covered with a light green moss. The front of the house rested on tall poles and had been built up against the shape of the mountain. “Well done, Yvan. Let’s hope he’s not dead,” Anya said cheerfully.
“He will be here,” Yvan said with an odd smile. “He can be temperamental so please try to behave.” Anya gave him a mock salute but said nothing. Yvan knocked politely on the heavily carved door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer.
“Yvan, it is raining so heavily he probably can’t even hear you,” Anya yelled over the downpour. She stepped forward and beat against the door heavily with her fists before adding a kick for luck. “Hey! Open the goddamn door!”
“You are trying to get me killed aren’t you?”
“If he is a friend of yours I am sure he will understand,” she said just as the door opened. The man was tall and slender with curly hair dark hair. His eyes widened with surprise as he looked Anya up and down.
“Good evening, Miss Anya.”
Chapter Ten - Old Friends
Vasilli had been lost in the forest for nearly four days. He sat on the large Red horse with his two wolves running behind him, their heads down. The horse seemed to be intent on leading him and fighting him every step of the way. He had given up on it and now the horse was finding its own way home.
The Bone Cottage on its chicken legs came into view at nightfall of the fourth day. The old witch was standing beside her gate picking the grime out from under her fingernails with a sliver of bone.
“Baba Yaga, so this is your doing,” growled Vasilli.
“This is my forest, Vasilli, I know everything that goes on in it even if you think you can cross through my lands without me noticing,” she snapped. “The forest thinks for itself. Perhaps it didn’t want to let you go straight away. I believe that horse belongs to me.”
“And has the forest produced anything of interest lately?” Vasilli asked, changing his tone to be almost friendly. He didn’t have the power to take on Baba Yaga. Not yet.
“Nothing worth mentioning. Why? Have you lost something?”
“Indeed I have. Two very good friends of mine have gone astray and I wish to find them.” Baba Yaga looked up at him and rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Byk der’mo Vasilli. I know who you seek and I know they are not good friends of yours,” she said in a frustrated tone. “It must be hard for you to have lost your brother again, especially now that he is with Yanka’s blood.”
“What business is that of yours witch? What interest are they to you?”
Baba Yaga shrugged her bony shoulders. “They are not of any interest to me
, I am not the one who is in danger of them. They came seeking help and being full of stomach and generous of nature I gave it to them.”
Vasilli gripped the leather reins tighter. “Tell me what you gave them Baba Yaga,” he said threateningly.
“Nothing of much value,” Baba Yaga said as she started to pick at her nails again. “Just directions.”
“Where to?”
“Let’s just say I gave them bad directions,” she smiled her iron smile. “I will tell which way they went for a trade.”
“What do you want?”
“I want my damn horse back. My Rider told me what happened and I am not impressed with the way you stole from me on my own land,” Baba Yaga yelled and threw down the bone. There was a roll of power from her and Vasilli relented, dismounting and pushing the horse away. It wandered into the yard and nuzzled the old witch.
“Fine. Which way?” he asked.
Baba Yaga was not listening. She was looking the deep cuts in the horse’s flesh where Vasilli had cut it to perform his dark magic.
“They went East,” she said through her iron teeth. “You had best hurry Vasilli before they fulfil Ilya’s prophecy heh?”
“Ilya was a stupid, crazy farmer. I don’t give a fuck about anything he said.”
“I think you do, you have been hunting that firebird long enough. I hope it burns you up until your skin melts while you scream for mercy,” Baba Yaga said as she stepped into the door way of her house.
“One day Baba Yaga I am going to kill you.”
“You may dream but I know what blood flows in your veins and if she couldn’t kill me you certainly have no chance.” She clapped her hands and the house rose on its legs, high enough to drown out Vasilli’s curses.
***
“I’m sorry?” Anya said confused. She had never met this man in her life though there was something about him that seemed slightly familiar.
Cry of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 1) Page 8
