by Taki Drake
When Volos returned, he was carrying a small bucket of berries and some very nice stew. They had a companionable meal, sharing the food that he had brought back and Zhanna found herself relaxing more and more in his presence. She saw that Dascha was watching the man like she observed a mouse. Quiet, watchful, ready to spring at any moment.
Zhanna felt as if she hadn’t contributed to the meal. Reaching into the bag of her possessions, she found the partial wheel of cheese that she had packed the night before last and brought it out. She was worried that it and the bread that she had tucked into the same bag were stale. Amazingly enough, even though she had remembered them being stale and a bit dusty, both the bread and cheese were fresh, almost as if they had just finished baking and being cut.
The young witch was glad that she had remembered what food she had to offer when Volos’ eyes lit up with pleasure. She told him, “I’m sorry that they aren’t fresher, but I’ve been traveling for a couple of days.”
“The taste is wonderful, and they seem very fresh to me,” responded Volos. “It is not very often that I get to eat food that tastes this good, especially in the company of a charming woman.”
<> interjected Dascha, <
It was clear from Volos’ expression that he had also heard the cat. Zhanna’s mortified blush was intense and bright, so bright that the man seemed unable to avoid lifting a hand and touching one finger to Zhanna’s cheek.
Letting out a spitting sound of disgust, Dascha jumped up, and head butted her witch. <
Obediently, Zhanna got up without a word. When Volos politely rose to his feet also, she was surprised to see that he had a rather peculiarly curved stick in his hand. He handed that to Zhanna, with the explanation that it would need to be planted in the field as she completed her spell.
This was a bit of a surprise because she hadn’t really planned on how she was going to complete the spell that he described. Neither she nor Dascha could think of anything terribly dangerous in the spell. It was at the same time both a blessing and a nurturing of the field. Using the spell, this particular field was symbolic for all the fields around the area, and for all the farms.
Supposedly, her performing the spell in this one field would take care of all of the fields and all of the farm animals. Hopefully, it would be true.
It seemed like a rather neat and efficient way to go about taking care of a large area. Nothing that Dascha knew and neither of their feelings warned them against doing this ceremony. Zhanna just hoped that she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. She didn’t think so, but only time and testing would tell.
The three of them walked to the center of the field. It was a dry and dusty field with no young plants growing and not even weed cover. Zhanna realized that she had seen fields like it everywhere on her trip. Even around her home village, where there were people working all the time in the fields, there was a shared aspect of despair and disuse.
<
Zhanna sighed with reluctance. It seemed like it would have been a much nicer day to just be lazy for a little bit, perhaps not needing to rush off. But that was not the way it was going to be. Instead, she brought out her athame, laid down her pack, and prepared to cast the spell.
This spell seemed to come more easily than the others that she had done. Where before she had to work hard at pulling the energy in herself before she could transform it with her will, this time the energy came readily to her hand. The magenta color of her magic filtered through her hand, spilling out and falling to the parched ground.
Zhanna allowed the preparation of the spell to build, creating small puddles or pools of energy around her. Slowly, she raised both hands cupping some unseen, but felt, liquid, frothing over in the air and dropping to the thirsty soil. Zhanna allowed it to continue for a few seconds, watching how the spell supported and enhanced the network of tiny lights that covered the field.
She could almost see the connectivity of all the living or semi-alive components in the fields whether they were the mice in their burrows or the grasshoppers jumping. This airy, finely-knotted network of living things was like a visual map that she could use to plant Volos’staff.
Standing straight and tall in the middle of the field, Zhanna spoke the beginning words of her spell. These two words hung like waiting lightning and thunder in the air, one minute causing a shadow, the next an eerie, glistening light. The temperature around them dropped. A glistening of ice crystals formed on Zhanna’s eyelashes but melted immediately. The touch of the cold was all that she needed to determine when the next phase of the spell would start. As soon as that indefinable moment had arrived, Zhanna once again slashed her palm and stuck her bloody hand into the frothing cup.
The response from the pool of magic was instantaneous. A geyser of frothing foam rose up in a huge gout. The magenta cloud that rose from Zhanna’s hands was impressive, shooting up to just over 12 feet. The young witch watched wide-eyed as lightning pierced the clouds of fog and steam. Even over the crashing thunder and the crack of lightning, she could hear Volos murmur his surprise and amazement. Just as the energy of the spell started to reduce, Zhanna took the staff that Volos had given her and planted it firmly in the soil of the field. Immediately stepping back, Zhanna spoke the words that completed the spell. The frothy air was immediately sucked into the staff as it stayed in the field.
There was an audible click, and the sound of the birds and animals seem to cease for a split second. When the sound came back, there was a new one added to the mix. It was a softer grumble that kept getting louder. Just when Zhanna thought that her ears would burst from the sheer power of the noise, everything went silent. Everything, except for a softer rumbling sound.
The young witch looked around in confusion. She saw Volos and Dascha standing by the side of the field where they had eaten lunch. Unsure of why they had moved from the field beside her to the edge of the field, Zhanna picked her back up and still carrying her athame openly, started to move rapidly to join them.
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Chapter 11
It had been exhilarating to have done so much good for the field. Rather than being exhausted at the end the spell, Zhanna had felt energized and ready for pretty much anything. Dascha had kept a close eye on her witch, making sure that there was no wandering off and that they got back on the road as quickly as possible. Every time that Zhanna started to look like she was going to begin to respond to Volos, Dascha would mutter, <
It hadn’t been more than another hour before the witch and cat duo were back on the road and traveling once again toward Blagogarsk. There were occasional squelching sounds from Zhanna’s damp boots that provided a comic element to the seriousness of their journey. The water that had come out of the staff had been incredibly fast and far-reaching. Zhanna, Dascha, and Volos had watched in amazement as the dry dusty-looking field had been hit by a wave of greenery. Plants appeared and grew, small flowers opened up, and the smell of dry dirt and the sterile environment had changed almost instantaneously to that of the vital odor of green, growing things.
Volos had been very appreciative. He insisted on giving Zhanna an amulet as a sign of his gratitude. He told her that if she needed him that he would be most pleased to return the favor and come to her aid. His conversation with Zhanna had started to extend longer than Dascha was comfortable with, so the cat finally resorted to grabbing the edge of Zhanna’s cloak and yanking her toward the road.
Laughingly, Zhanna had waved goodbye to Volos and started making her damp escape. Dascha’s only comment at that point had been an extremely acerbic, <
Since it was early afternoon, there didn’t seem to be much reason to take another break or stop. Zhanna was feeling energized and was walking quite quickly. At times, Dascha would leap up on top of her shoulder and ride for a little while. Letting her witch carry the load for 10 minutes or so didn’t seem to be too big of a favor to ask. Especially since the small cat was far more tired than her witch.
They had walked another couple of hours and decided to take a very short break by a stream that they could see ahead. As they approached the stream, Dascha had stiffened on Zhanna's shoulder and let out a low hiss. <
Zhanna slowed down and finally stopped. Looking toward the bushes that Dascha had mentioned, she called out in a soft voice, “I know you’re there. Do you need something?”
A tiny head with tufted ears peeked out underneath the lowest branch of the bush by the road. Big brown eyes set in a triangular furred face stared at her in fear. Zhanna immediately dropped to her knees to put her head more level with the creature. “I won’t hurt you. Please tell me what it is that you need.”
A tiny trembling figure darted out from underneath the bush and ran over to cling to Zhanna’s leg. A piping little voice told her, “Some of the big ones said that you would help me. He’s trapped, and I can’t get the trap loose. It hurts him. It hurts him a lot.”
Dascha let out an exasperated sigh. She knew that her witch was hooked. She also knew that they were not going to make Blagogarsk tonight.
When Zhanna straightened up, she was holding the creature cradled in her arms. It was bipedal and lightly furred with the soft cushioning texture of thick brown, gray-dappled coloring. In some ways, it looked like a picture that Zhanna had seen of something called a “monkey.” But it had no long tail, and it appeared to be as comfortable standing on two legs as it would on four.
“Where is your friend? Let’s go there and see what we can do to help him.”
The small one gave her directions in its tiny, hard-to-hear voice. As she came up to each branch point in the path that led off the main road, the little creature would tell her which way to go. It wasn’t unintelligent. It understood her limitations and mentioned when she had to watch her footing or be careful of knocking her head.
Suddenly Dascha crouched down on Zhanna’s shoulder and started to growl.
<
There is no answer from the familiar. Zhanna could feel the back of her head being whacked from the twitching of Dascha’s tail. She could sense the tension in the cat’s body by the way the claws dug unheeded into her shoulder. There was something definitely there, and it wasn’t right.
A flash of movement, a whisper of fur against Zhanna’s chin, and the small creature disappeared into the neckline of her blouse. It tickled so badly that the young witch had to fight back a splurt of laughter. She followed Dascha’s gaze with her own, hoping to see what had aroused the instincts of the cat. The familiar was staring intently at a deep-shadowed area in the forest mast.
For a mere instant, two pale, large eyes stared back at her. A wave of lethargic despair wash over Zhanna. Depression, fright, and soured anger slammed into her with blows that shook her soul. The young woman dug deep and held her ground. Knowing that the emotion was not coming from inside of her, she put her stubborn will to work. Picturing hooks that dug deeply into the ground attached to chains that wrapped around her waist, she felt the earth energy renewing her through the soles of her feet. It was enough to give her a breath of fresh air, a minor relief from what she now knew was a very dangerous spirit.
Drawing a second, deep breath, Zhanna pictured a column of protective air rising around her. She had never asked Mazza what the spell was that the older woman had cast around the circle on the spirit plane. She knew she wasn’t up to Mazza’s capabilities, but she pictured something that looked just like what the more experienced witch had performed. The young woman was hoping that it would protect her as much as the circle had protected everyone else when she was spellcasting that night.
The push of someone else’s will against hers abruptly stopped. Zhanna was positive that it had come from the creature in the shadows. She was equally sure that it was evil. A screeching, frustrated cry blasted out of the shadows and assailed Zhanna’s ears. She could feel Dascha’s trembling form on her shoulder, the cat dug so deeply into her clothing that the extended claws had also sunk into the flesh of Zhanna’s shoulder. It was minor in comparison to the sense of danger and the fear that were just short of overwhelming.
Separately, both the witch and the familiar would have run. Together, they were a different story. Each reinforced the other, each supported the other. They were stronger together, and these withstood the aural assault just like they had survived the mental one.
The ice disappeared. When no new attack came at them for several minutes, Zhanna started to relax. She could feel Dascha’s trembling starting to slow, and the claws were slowly retracted from her shoulder, leaving just a trickle of blood down her chest as a reminder of the danger they had survived.
A small furry head peeked out of Zhanna’s cleavage. The creature inched its way up higher and higher to look at the ground. Apparently convinced that the danger was past, it crawled up to Zhanna’s other shoulder and wordlessly pointed its small arm in the direction that they should go.
Zhanna continued on. They had traveled another hundred yards when the small one sprang from Zhanna’s shoulder and darted off down to the stream. Zhanna could see a huddled shape close to the water.
As they drew closer, both Zhanna and Dascha were startled as the tiny creature ran fearlessly up to the larger one piping something in excited tones. The sleeping shape roused and began to stand, only to be brought up short by the trap around his leg. The creature was huge. Taller than the tallest man in the village and far broader in the shoulder chest and stomach, it dwarfed Zhanna. It had two arms, two legs, and two eyes, but it didn’t look human. Instead of skin, it had bark. Instead of arms and hands, the appendages looked more like tree limbs and twigs.
Dascha warned Zhanna, <
<
Dascha could feel her witch thinking, quickly and hard. She couldn’t hear what was going on, but she trusted Zhanna’s judgment. At least when the human head been reminded of how dangerous certain things or beings could be.
Zhanna stopped about 10 feet away from the trapped creature. She said, “Your friend came to find us and brought us back. It was a very brave thing to do, and I am hoping you will trust him, and me when I say that I will help you and not harm you.”
In a voice like the creaking of branches in a strong wind, the creature replied, “Thank you for the assistance, young witch. It is being said that you are a being of honor and one that is interested in doing the right thing. I am hoping that you will assist me since my strength and my friend is not strong enough to get me out of this trap.”
“I would be honored to help you, Lord of the forest.”
Zhanna couldn’t tell, but the lessening of the tension in his posture led her to believe that her comment had been the right one. With a slightly trembling arm, the Borovoi motioned her forward. The young witch came closer, moving cautiously until she caught sight of the mangled, bleeding leg. The trap had obviously been damaging, and she knew the pain was incredibly high.
“Oh, you poor thing! How could someone do something so terrible? Please, please, sit down. Let me see what I can do to get that off your leg, and we can get you feeling more comfortable. In that instant, Zhanna lost all self-consciousness. She stopped seeing the Borovoi as a dangerous being. Instead, he became
a hurt person in need of help. Something in her responded, reaching out in an attempt to help.
Bustling about, Zhanna soon had the trap open and the wound cleaned and bandaged. Even though her ministrations must have caused pain, the creature never complained, never hissed or snapped. Instead, he watched the young witch was an unwavering gaze. Seemingly bemused by her, he obediently moved where she directed him and assumed the postures she requested. Dascha carefully kept her thoughts from reaching her witch. She didn’t think that Zhanna would appreciate the mental picture that would go with the comment, nor did she think that the young woman would be amused at being likened to a chicken leading a bull by a string.
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It had taken almost an hour and a half to dress the damages that the trap had inflicted on the Borovoi. Once Zhanna was convinced that she had done as much she could to bandage the wounds and comfort the patient, she sat down next to him with a sigh. The little creature that had come to find her immediately jumped into her lap and swarmed up her body to wrap its little arms around her neck. The fierce grip of its arms was a marked contrast to the small and frail body. It muttered into her hair, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
