Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

  I love you both. Who did she mean? Dedushka? I glanced up at Elation. Not her, surely? Although she’d remained by my side as Babushka slipped away.

  The little book in my hands seemed to call to me. I’d seen it before—Babushka wrote down all her herbal findings in it. But when I opened it, I found it was so much more than a record of medicinal herbs. It was a journal.

  I didn’t want to read what was in that book—didn’t want to see the moment I’d taken Dedushka’s life and Babushka’s reaction to it. I flipped to the beginning instead. Just a few terse lines:

  She brought us the baby today. Our granddaughter. Our beloved Alexei’s only child.

  I repeated the name Alexei to myself over and over. My father, it must have been. And with a jolt, I realized my patronymic name, Alexeyevna, finally made sense. Babushka had always said I’d been given that name—the name that should have come from my father—in memory of the son they had lost. But now I saw the truth. Babushka and Dedushka were truly my grandparents—my father’s parents. The knowledge of that shook me, until I could barely hold the book in my hands. It didn’t give a name for who “she” was. It didn’t even say if it was my mother, but somehow, I knew it was.

  I flipped through, noting more terse entries.

  A beautiful child.

  We love her.

  We fear for her.

  Her powers have not manifested like her mother’s, but we fear they will. Still, we cannot part with her.

  The eagle watches over her.

  I realized that Kharan had been right: I had inherited my powers. It felt as though missing pieces from my childhood were falling into place, and yet there was still so much I didn’t know. Other than mentioning my father’s name, skimming the pages of the book produced no other names, nor any indication of who my mother was. I’d always believed I’d been found, abandoned in the woods, left for dead. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was I’d been given to my own family to raise me.

  I just didn’t know why.

  When Grigory and his men still hadn’t shown, I spent the rest of the day gathering what I could find of the dead—in some cases, only blackened remains—and preparing a funeral pyre in the small cemetery behind the elder’s izba. The ground was still far too hard to be able to dig enough graves, so I was forced to burn the bodies.

  Grimly, I wondered how many other villages had been attacked. Grigory had told the prince that the Drevlian and Novgorodian armies were in this area, and I felt almost betrayed by God that they had preyed on my village—though I didn’t wish this on any other. From the northwest, though, we were the closest village to Kiev—perhaps that was why it had been destroyed. I hadn’t arrived in time to save them, so I was left to do what I could for the dead. I couldn’t give them a funeral, or last rites, and there were no lamenters to wail and gnash their teeth at the fact that they were gone, but at least their bodies weren’t lying scattered across the village.

  For Babushka, I found a colorful quilt that had somehow survived the attack, and I wrapped her small frame in it carefully. Despite her age and her small stature, she’d always seemed larger than life to me. She was energetic and driven, and she took up space in a room just from the force of her presence. But now she was little more than bones, most of her body burned away, and light enough for me to half-carry, half-drag to the graveyard.

  Even after working to gather the villagers’ remains, it wasn’t until the quilt wrapped around Babushka’s body caught fire that my throat swelled and I blinked back the sting of tears.

  There was so much I regretted. The thought of never seeing Dedushka and Babushka again; of not being able to learn from Babushka about healing herbs or Dedushka about hunting and general woodsman skills, or from either of them about the mystery of my power or the truth of my origins. It hurt because these people had raised me, but it was agony to find out after they had died that they were my real grandparents.

  While the funeral pyre burned, I swayed on my feet as much from exhaustion as grief, but as I fell to my knees and covered my face with my hands, the grief consumed me like a wild wolf.

  But as it so often does, the grief turned to anger, the black emotion churning like the sea. It crashed over me, and I bent at the waist to absorb its blows. I’d been a fool to think this war wouldn’t affect me. That I was somehow removed from it—that the village was safe. If only I had been here . . . I could have . . .

  Killed them all? The question hovered in my mind. Would I have killed the enemy soldiers to protect Babushka?

  An answer bubbled up inside me, carried on the flow of power that cascaded like a waterfall at my center.

  Yes.

  Yes, I would have killed the enemy soldiers. I would have fought their flames with my own cold fire. What was more—there was a part of me that wanted to hunt down the soldiers responsible for this and destroy them.

  But I knew what I must do: return to the prince. Lend him my aid. Strike at not only the small company of soldiers who had leveled my village, but destroy the whole of the enemy’s army.

  I wanted to leave immediately, but I knew I’d need my strength. It made me wonder: Where were Grigory and his men? Why had they not yet come? I never thought I’d be so eager to see Grigory, but I was desperate for news of the enemy soldiers—where else had they gone? Surely not on to Kiev?

  With half the izba destroyed, sleeping in a bed wasn’t an option, so I curled up on the hearth with my coat as a blanket. I tried not to look at where Babushka had breathed her last, but the spot with ashes and snow kept drawing my gaze.

  I love you, Babushka had said, and another sob wrenched its way from my mouth.

  Elation landed beside me, a soft cry escaping her as she helplessly watched me suffer under the burden of my own thoughts.

  I didn’t know what allowed her to retain her bond with me, her need to stay by my side, but as I succumbed to my exhaustion and grief, I was glad she was there.

  At least I wasn’t entirely alone.

  I awoke on the cold hearth of Babushka’s izba, my body stiff from the previous day’s hardship. But now that I had said my goodbyes and buried the dead, a desperate need to return to Kiev assailed me. I stood in a rush and staggered with lightheadedness. When had I last eaten? Part of me didn’t care, but another part warned that I would need my strength.

  There was a cupboard to the left of the fireplace where Babushka always kept some bread, nuts, dried berries, and buckwheat for porridge. I opened it to find a good supply of it still there. Eating the nuts and a chunk of bread as I left, I stopped for a moment to stare back at the izba, years of memories pressing for attention. Before I left, I let my fingers graze along the beautifully carved windowsill that Dedushka had always been proud of, promising myself that one day, I’d return and remove it from the izba to keep it for myself.

  Hurry, hurry, a voice in my head kept repeating. What if the same army that had destroyed my village turned its attention to Kiev? What if that was why Grigory and his men had never arrived? Would the others’ powers be enough to keep them at bay?

  With everything that had happened here, I hadn’t let myself think of the prince, but now that I did, it seemed to be what my mind had been waiting for all along. A flood of images and feelings burst free: fear that the prince had been injured juxtaposed with memories of his smile, his silver eyes. Worse, I realized he’d been right about the enemy all along. Kharan, and Ivan, too—everyone had tried to convince me, but I’d been too blinded to listen, too afraid of my own power. I felt the wintery strength within me rise. And I knew: with every drop of power I had, I would help him defeat these monsters who burned the villages of innocent civilians.

  I would unleash my cold fire on them, and I wouldn’t allow myself to be crippled by guilt.

  Headed southeast now, I hurried as fast as I dared. I wished for a horse, or a sleigh, or anything that could make me move faster. Elation flew above me and then ahead to scout for me, before always circling back again.


  I made good progress, though the taste of snow and ash lingered on my tongue, slowing my pace every time it triggered the horrible images of Babushka burned and dying. And thinking of Babushka led to questions of who I really was. Questions that swarmed relentlessly in my mind as I kept up my grueling pace.

  Night passed, and early the next morning, I was just taking a drink from a stream when Elation plummeted down from the sky.

  She physically pushed me back from the direction I was heading and wouldn’t let me go any farther.

  I understand, I thought to her, but I have to see what threat I’m up against.

  I crouched down and moved silently forward, until I could just make out movement and voices through the trees and thick snowcapped underbrush. Were they Grigory and the prince’s men?

  But as I moved to a place where I could see between the leaves, I saw that there were ten men and women, none of whom I recognized. They were dressed very finely, in rich brocade and fur and shiny boots. Their elegant clothing seemed out of place in the wild of the forest. Beyond them, though, was a small company of soldiers dressed in black, the image of a wolf howling on each chest. They were deep in conversation with the finely dressed men and women, and as I crept closer, I could hear their words.

  “Prince Stanislav sent us to assist you in defeating the southern boyar,” one of the finely dressed women said. “We are to make the very trees turn against them.”

  The trees, I thought as a cold dread filled me.

  These weren’t the prince’s men at all.

  They were his enemies. Earth elementals.

  Chapter Twelve

  MY HEART BEAT SO STRONGLY I could hear it echo in my ears. The soldiers were almost certainly the ones who had burned my village, and worse, they had plans to destroy yet another boyar, where no doubt thousands of people would be called to defend their land. Fear warred with a need for vengeance within me, turning my skin hard as ice.

  But as I counted the number of soldiers before me, I wondered how they planned to accomplish such a feat. There were perhaps thirty men altogether, and ten elementals—not nearly enough to fight against the druzhina—the men sworn to protect the boyar. Unless the earth elementals were more powerful than even the prince had imagined.

  “We must attack before Prince Alexander calls the city militia to arms,” one of the soldiers said, his beard as thick and black as a bear’s pelt.

  It was a woman in a long coat trimmed in fox fur who answered him. “The princes are not yet ready to take Kiev. Even with our power, we should not try to take the city without the whole army at our backs. Boyar Petrov stands between us and Kiev—we can defeat his druzhina first. Perhaps Prince Alexander will begin to see reason as another of his boyars falls.”

  Another man—one of the ten dressed as the woman was—spoke at that. “Why must we attempt to take Kiev at all? It seems foolish considering the bulk of the grand prince’s army are there.”

  The woman shot him a frigid glare. “Kiev is the seat of power for Kievan Rus’, which you well know. You are merely trying to sow dissent.”

  “I don’t need to sow it—it’s already among our people.” He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice until I had to strain to hear him. “Why do this, Vanya? It will only mean more deaths. Who knows what allies the grand prince has. Are you so greedy?”

  “Yes,” she said simply, “I am.” When he shook his head in disgust, she continued. “The prince has no allies—the other princes made sure of that. And he’s a child. We will overtake him and Kiev easily, and then all Kievan Rus’ will be ours. We will help turn it into the mighty empire it always should have been.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you and the two others who agree with you don’t fall in line, then, well, we’ll just have to grind your bones to dust right along with the prince of Kiev. So tell me, Vasily, are you still with us?”

  If there was anyone among those men and women who agreed with him, they did not step forward. After a moment of silence, he nodded.

  I was stunned by what I’d heard. Not only did the elementals plan to attack Kiev, but there was clearly some infighting among them about their decision to join forces with the other princes. Even if this one man had been ignored by the men and women here, surely there were others who thought like him.

  I realized I was now doing what Kharan was best at: spying. Privy to conversations these men and women would kill to keep from being brought back to Prince Alexander. Unlike Kharan, however, I could not become one with the shadows. They scanned the forest surrounding them warily, and I knew I should hurry back to the prince while I could. He would want to know where they were and what they had said.

  Crouched low, I took a few steps back very slowly. Elation walked beside me, and I knew she was smart enough not to take to the sky and draw attention to us. As I continued my backward movement, the sleeve of my coat brushed across the green needles of a fir tree, sending a light dusting of snow down to the ground.

  I froze as I watched the snow fall, a chill racing up the back of my neck. It was no louder than the flap of a butterfly’s wings, and yet . . .

  I could no longer see the man and the woman who had been talking—the bushes hid me from view—but it was as though I could sense the heat of their gaze.

  I took another small step back. A low rumbling came from beneath the ground, causing Elation to flap her wings nervously. I remembered what Kharan had told me, of earth elementals who could split the ground wide open, and I prepared to run.

  Suddenly, in an explosion of snow and frozen ground, a thick vine burst from the earth beneath me. Elation screeched a warning, and I bolted.

  The vine, as thick around as my leg, shot forward impossibly fast. It wrapped around my ankle and brought me crashing to the ground.

  With a scream, I tried to free myself, but the vine grew still tighter until I feared it would snap the bone of my leg. My body went cold and rigid, and I panicked as the vine dragged me back to the circle of people.

  In the sky above, Elation screeched again.

  No, I thought to her when she flew lower. I was terrified they would catch her, too. Find Grigory and his men.

  They couldn’t be far.

  “I thought the trees had whispered that there was a human hiding behind them,” the woman said, her dark eyes and darker smile making my blood freeze. “Are you a spy?”

  “No,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze, even as I thought of the devastation that was left of my village. I fought against the vine, but it only squeezed harder.

  She tilted her head. “Spy or not, you’ve heard too much.”

  The vine slithered up higher on my body like a snake until my arms were restrained along with the rest of me. The woman lifted her hand, and the sharp tip of one thick vine rose above me. My heart beat fast, but I wasn’t afraid. My skin had turned to ice, and cold poured off it like mist. I had that defense, at least.

  Before I could blink, she brought the vine down toward my exposed throat, but it was repelled by my frozen skin. Again, she tried, only to fail. Meanwhile, the power within me grew. These were the people who had burned my village and killed Babushka. Cold fire was almost too kind a punishment for them.

  The dark-haired man stalked forward with sword drawn, and I knew he meant to try his blade against my frozen skin.

  He never had the chance.

  I released my power in an explosion of wintery fury. The frozen vine shattered into a thousand pieces. The man and woman closest to me froze instantly, and as the cold continued to pour down on them, they, too, shattered. It spread from them to one of the others who was close by: a man in a black fur hat. And the backdraft it created was so powerful, it blew everyone away from me. The wind buffeted my ears, explosively loud as it destroyed everything in a small radius around me.

  “Enemy soldiers approaching!” came a shout from one of the men who was far enough away to escape my cold fire.

  I looked up to see Elation leading the way above as the prince and an enti
re contingent of soldiers, including Ivan, Boris, and Grigory, rode into the clearing. I breathed a sigh of relief—finally they’d arrived. The earth elementals still living and the other soldiers turned to face this new threat. The prince, astride an enormous blood bay charger, met my gaze from across the snowy field. Even from this distance, I could see the recognition followed rapidly by fear contorting his face. As his men immediately dove into the fray, he urged his horse toward me.

  Taking advantage of my distraction, a man with a thick, blond beard and black fur hat raised his hand, and a massive tree sprouted from the ground mere feet from me. Thick roots spread in every direction, and as they made contact with my cold fire, they froze and shattered—but more grew in their place. One avoided the cold fire and grasped hold of me just as the vine had. I screamed and fought as it lifted me into the air.

  “Katya!” the prince shouted.

  But before he could reach me, the tree’s trunk split down the middle, opening wide like a cave, and the massive root that kept me imprisoned threw me inside. With a groan, the gaping hole in the tree closed around me, and I was trapped.

  I was encased in darkness, my rapid heartbeat and heavy breathing the only sounds I could hear. Fear threatened to suffocate me, but the burn of anger within my chest kept me from giving in to terror. I loosed my cold fire again, and the tree was not impervious to it. The cold spread, blue flames dancing powerfully, and a terrible cracking and splitting sound echoed around me. The tree was thick, but it would not be able to withstand the cold fire for long.

  I kicked at the trunk in front of me until cracks appeared, letting in slivers of light. Again and again I hit with the ball of my foot, until finally the tree was frozen enough to shatter. I burst through the hole I’d made, only to find that the battle had gotten worse for our men.

  The earth elementals and enemy soldiers had moved to intercept the prince. Boris, Ivan, and Grigory fought around him—but it took all of them just to keep the earth elementals at bay. Enemy soldiers joined the fight, but Boris wielded his sword in a powerful arc, and two or three men fell at once.