by Taki Drake
Petting the creature, Zhanna said, “You are very welcome, little one. It was very brave of you to come get me when there were so many scary things on the road. I hope your friend knows how brave you were.”
The Borovoi answered her, “It was incredibly brave of him. I never truly expected to see him again alive since the Nocnitsa was slowly killing me. It had drained me three times, and I didn’t think I was going to survive many more.”
“Who, or what, is a Nocnitsa?” asked Zhanna.
“It is an evil spirit of the forest, one that drains energy from its victims. Usually it doesn’t kill them right away, preferring to slowly drain their energy and to cause as much pain and suffering as possible. Now that I am better, I will have an improved chance of getting rid of it. It has damaged many of the animals in this part of the forest. Even humans traveling to this area have been drained and killed.”
“My powers are not very large right now, but what I have I will pledge to support you in your fight against it. In all honor, I can do no less.”
“That is a kind and generous offer, but one that is very dangerous for you. The Nocnitsa will weaken and slowly drain one such as I but you humans have very little protection. If once you come under her attention in direct combat, she will never stop pursuing you. Hopefully, she will never even get a good look at you.”
Zhanna remembered the sense of evil and the glowing eyes. “I think it’s too late.”
Straightening up abruptly, the Borovoi insisted on hearing about the earlier encounter. Zhanna and Dascha took turns explaining to him how they had felt and where the Nocnitsa had been. The small one added his commentary in a rapid, fluting language that none of the rest of them understood.
The Borovoi listened to all of it, exclaiming at some of the aspects of her summoning that he had not caught before in the middle of his pain and exhaustion. Pulling himself out of the discussion with the sudden awareness of the sun making its way toward the horizon, the forest Lord exclaimed, “Oh dear. We have been talking for so long that I have forgotten my wisdom. It would be best if you were out of the forest before nightfall comes since that is the Nocnitsa’s hunting time. I can protect myself and my friend here but protecting you to is beyond my capability right now.”
She nodded her agreement and immediately started to reassemble her pack. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she bent to give the little one a hug. No one was more amazed than she was when the small furred one sang into her ear, “My thanks to you, big human. My friend will be safe now, and things are better. You be safe also and come visit Tiroi again.” Realizing the great honor that he had just given her, she gave him a slight hug in response and stood up.
The Borovoi stepped toward her. Extending his huge hand out toward her he dropped an unusual token in her hand. It appeared to be a small golden leaf strung through with a loop of vine. The large, solemn creature gifted her with a small sweet smile, and said, “This will help to protect you, Zhanna. It is a small thing, I would do more if I could. Know that you also have my thanks to keep you company on the road.”
Zhanna was quite overcome with both the beauty of the token and the fact that he would thank her for doing something that she would have done anyway. She simply could not leave someone or something in torment when she had any way of helping. That attitude had gotten her in trouble more than one time during her childhood. It seemed like adulthood had different rules.
Waving goodbye to the Borovoi and to his small friend, Tiroi, Dascha and Zhanna were quickly on their way. They had miles to go before they dared to sleep and they truly wanted to be out of the borders of the forest before nightfall fell.
Chapter 12
The last three hours had gone by quickly. Zhanna was not conscious of the passage of time in the depths of her drive to be out of the forest and away from the Nocnitsa. Both she and Dascha had plenty to think about, so the conversation had been minimal. The familiar had restricted her activities to watching for danger, ensconced on her witch’s shoulder. Zhanna had concentrated on moving quickly and smoothly along the pathway.
They had made good progress and could see the edge of the forest from their place in the path. It would not be too many more minutes before they were out of the forest. There still had been no sign of the Nocnitsa. Zhanna didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried. She felt like there was a storm approaching and no matter what she did, she would be unprepared when it hit.
Tension ratcheted up higher the closer they got to the edge of the forest. The light difference between the two sides of the border was considerable. The deepening gloom of the forest was almost relaxing to the eye against the bright sunlight of the land still in the fiery glow of a sun attempting to plunge below the horizon.
Finally, Zhanna and her familiar stepped from the forest gloom into bright light. Nothing had happened. Zhanna’s cranked up nerves and reflexes finally started to release. However, something inside told Zhanna that she didn’t dare totally relax yet. She kept pushing, setting one foot in front of the other and looking for a place to spend the night.
The shape of the land had changed also. Before they got into the forest area, the relatively flat fields of the area around Zhanna’s home village had seemed normal. The forest area had been very slightly hilly, with few open areas and no rough terrain. This land was different. It had hills and gullies, long sweeps of uphill and downhill. Walking quickly, Zhanna had maintained a rapid pace on the roadway since the entire path was relatively unbroken and easy to walk quickly on.
Coming over the top of the hill Zhanna stopped, frozen in amazement. Where their trip up to this point had been dominated by the hills and nature, off in the distance was the unmistakable footprint of humankind. It was the skyline of Blagogarsk. Even knowing that the town of the Volkhvy was deserted, Zhanna still found it an amazing sight. From this distance, she could see the outlines of the onion domes, the city wall, and some of the buildings. It was small in the distance, and Zhanna knew it would be quite a while before she actually got there.
Dascha chose that moment to break her silence, <>
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They had been lucky. Traveling only another couple of miles, they’d found an abandoned farmhouse. It was in much better repair than one that they had stayed at the first night. This one had doors and shutters and even a working fireplace. Zhanna was thrilled. Finally, they could sleep in a protected place and hopefully get a good night’s rest. She wanted to be fresh when she got into Blagogarsk in the morning.
It was only the work of a few minutes for Zhanna to get a fire going in the small fireplace and set a pot to boil with the ingredients for quick soup. Her Baba had sent her with packets of spices tied into individual bundles. It really helped to have someone pack for a trip that knew how to travel.
Zhanna wondered what her Baba had done to be so experienced in travel and so many other things. She realized that her grandmother hadn’t really talked much about her own family background. Instead, she had concentrated on talking about her grandfather’s. Thinking about it for a while, she muttered to herself, “I really need to ask grandma about her side of the family. I wonder why I never noticed that she didn’t talk about them?”
Dascha replied, <
The rest of the evening preparations for bed were made in complete silence.
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It had been a restless night so far. Tossing and turning in her effort to g
et to sleep, Zhanna had felt itchy and unsettled. Every time she started to nod off, something would happen to make her come back to full wakefulness. One time, it had been a mouse skidding across the floor. Dascha had gone from total sleep to a flying fur-covered predator. One second a warm presence against Zhanna’s side, the next a dark dappled engine of death. Dascha 1, Mice 0. It was funny, but it reminded Zhanna that she and her cat were alone, far from home and that the choices of weapons that she had for defense were small. Thinking that it was better than nothing, she got out of bed and went to her pack. Grabbing her athame, Zhanna closed her pack up and crawled into bed. She carefully tucked the blade under her pillow, feeling a tiny bit safer.
Zhanna had finally slid into the throes of at least a shallow sleep when she was assailed by chaotic visions. She had no idea why she was seeing all sorts of snapshots of the schoolchildren that had been present when she and Dascha had visited the village school. Some of the pictures were of children crying, others were more horrific images that made no sense. One boy lying still and pale, obviously dead. Another of a teacher, shielding a little boy from an oncoming blow. Each time Zhanna had yanked herself awake, pulled away from those horrible dreams.
Pictures of Krava, face suffused with rage, raising a knife to strike someone. Pictures of her grandmother holding her scrying bowl against her chest. None of these made any sense. The confusion of the senseless dreams and the sheer terror and hatefulness that she felt as she was trapped in them left her bruised in spirit and unable to sleep. She lay there in the dark, listening to Dascha’s quiet purring, and thinking quietly of the day.
At first, she thought the soft sound was another mouse or other household pest exploring the cottage. But something about the sound didn’t bring a small creature to mind. Instead, Zhanna felt a growing sense of despair and depression. She recognized that feeling.
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Zhanna felt more than heard her familiar wake and prepare herself. <>
Easing her hand up under her pillow, Zhanna took a firm grip on her athame. She didn’t know what to do. She was not a fighter, she was barely even a witch. “Great,” she thought to herself, “just another area that I need more education.” Even the split second that that took was a mistake. Because in that instant, the young witch found herself fighting for her life.
The Nocnitsa flung itself onto Zhanna’s body, the cold bite of its flesh raising the hair on the back of the young woman’s neck. It was heavier, far heavier than Zhanna, easily pinning her to the bed. Immediately, the witch felt a drain of energy. It was as if someone had put a straw into her heart and was sucking the lifeblood out of her. A pall of depression and lassitude dragged down on her limbs and clouded her mind.
Dimly she heard the yowl of her familiar as Dascha attacked. The evil cackle of the Nocnitsa and the slam of a small body hitting the opposite wall told Zhanna that she had to summon her will and fight this on her own. Her concern for her familiar and her own stubborn will drove her to twist and stab up into the form that was sitting on her chest and pinning her to the bed.
Holding firmly onto her blade and slashing with inexpert, clumsy motions, Zhanna was not too sure what good she was going to do. However, she was going to try and if that trying brought her death, then so be it.
One of her blows connected. The athame burst into a furious explosion of bluish-white awareness. In the strength of that light, the full form of the Nocnitsa could be seen. It was the stuff of nightmares.
The demon spirit took the form of an old, deformed woman, built on the scale of an ogre. Hunched and snaggle-toothed, its straggly hair was twisted and full of filth. What teeth it had were long and sharp. Long talons, some broken, showed the dried blood of many victims. Its hands were curved into claws of rage. Shielding its face from the strength of the light with a crooked arm, the hag once more leaped toward Zhanna.
The witch knew that she couldn’t take much more slamming from that large body. As the Nocnitsa jumped toward her, Zhanna threw another of those intuitive shields up. This time the strength of her revulsion and her concern about her familiar combined to make something was not simply a defensive wall. This defensive wall had teeth of its own.
Two feet away from Zhanna the jumping demon was slammed to a halt. A faint shimmer in the air showed where Zhanna’s wall had risen. It looked like a glass of thin fog, fragile and insubstantial. However, it held up easily to the force of the attack. A small amount of that force was transmitted to Zhanna, so she felt as if someone had given her mild thump. But her protection wall didn’t give, and Zhanna was not flung off the bed.
The witch’s ears were assaulted by a high, shrill screech of pure rage as the Nocnitsa scrabbled with her claws against the wall. Unable to see where it was, the enraged demon was reduced to smashing against it, again and again, trying to get it to break or to find a way around it. Momentarily thwarted, the Nocnitsa spun around, obviously looking for something else.
Zhanna saw the exact instant when the demon spirit located the unmoving form of her familiar. As it began to scuttle toward Dascha’s body, Zhanna’s lethargy broke like a dam smashed under the force of an unrelenting river.
“No!” Was all that the witch managed to scream before she flung her body through her own protective wall and onto the back of the Nocnitsa. Slamming down with the full force of her hysterical rage, Zhanna’s athame easily penetrated the back neck of the Nocnitsa. The same bluish glow that had driven the darkness away when Zhanna had first drawn the athame shot like an arrow flung through what what okay told you I heard his voice the night into the body of the Nocnitsa.
The demon could not handle the touch of the light. It began convulsing, flinging its body around, smashing into the furniture, and against the walls of the cottage. Zhanna, attached like a leech to the back of the demon spirit, went with it. The smashing death throes of the Nocnitsa battered the smaller woman, bruising and rending her flesh even as earlier the demon spirit had bruised her mind.
Not realizing that she had struck a death blow to the night hag, Zhanna ripped herself free of the flailing demon. Scrambling on knees and bruised hands, Zhanna dove for her familiar’s body. Catching it up from the floor, she spun placing her back to the wall. Athame in one hand, familiar clutched to her chest by the other arm, Zhanna waited for the next attack.
There was no next attack. Slowly sinking to the floor of the cottage, the Nocnitsa slipped into unconsciousness and death. It’s pale, gray flesh began to disintegrate, and a foul order tainted the air with memories of battle and corruption.
For a moment, there was no sound in the room, other than the harsh panting of Zhanna’s breath. The battle was over, and she had won, but at what cost?
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It was a quiet and subdued witch and familiar that were on the road at first light. After the hag been killed, Dascha had slowly recovered consciousness. Both she and Zhanna were bruised and moving slowly. The frantic movements of the night battle had left Zhanna with strained and aching muscles, impressive bruises, and a desire to leave the cottage as soon as possible. She had not been able to force her body back into the bed.
Even though Zhanna had managed to drag the Nocnitsa out of the cottage, the odor of the demon lingered. Between the smell and the ache, Zhanna knew that she would not be able to sleep any more that evening, so she had built up the fire and set a chair along side of it. She simply rested a bit and held Dascha. She knew that it was important to wake people with concussions every few hours to make sure that they were right, but she had no knowledge if that was appropriate for cats. She didn’t care. Periodically during the rest of the night, she awakened the irritable feline who even went so far as to claw her the fourth time that she was awakened.
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Zhanna just smiled, pleased that Dascha was recovering.
Watching her cat fall back to sleep, Zhanna slipped into a dozing rest. Once again, she was assailed by unsettling visions. Children in the village, her grandmother in strange places, even some of the mercenaries from the group. Why would she think of Stephan and Mikail? Why on earth would she think of Krava?
The feeling of danger that had started with earlier dreams had not gone away. The feel of a threatening storm cloud reminded her of the feel right before the twisters had attacked the village. She was filled with an urgency to return home. An unformed, cloudy mixture of fear and concern for those of ‘home’and family pressed on her mind and made the teeth in the back of her mouth itch.
