Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

  I thought of the brambles and the way Sasha and I had worked together to break through them. I could do the same with the walls of earthen stone. Sasha moved and attacked again, but Mikhail raised his hand, and another wall appeared out of the earth. I felt for the power burning within me, focusing on freezing the wall.

  I’d forgotten about Stanislav.

  The ground rumbled threateningly beneath me, and I turned and ran. Splintery cracks appeared beneath my feet. It was like being on the ice again, only this time, if I fell, I had no hope of pulling myself out.

  A pillar of earth appeared in front of me, cutting off my escape. Just as I was about to change direction, the ground beneath me gave way. A horrible plummeting feeling, like my stomach had suddenly fallen out through my feet, and then talons dug into my shoulder. With a piercing cry, Elation lifted me free of the chasm, depositing me on the other side, near Sasha.

  Sasha turned to me, and I could see the panic for me reflected in his eyes, but I shook my head. “There’s no time for that. We must work together like we did with the brambles.”

  He nodded once, and then the fire around him spread until it crackled and blazed. He ran toward Mikhail with sword held high, and predictably, Mikhail produced another wall of earth with a taunting laugh.

  I stared at the blockade he’d created, pictured it freezing in my mind, and then I channeled all the power of winter in a blast of cold air. It hit the wall, and only a moment after, Sasha shattered it with his sword.

  Mikhail was too shocked to stop the next attack. Sasha ran him through with a sword of blazing fire, and his body burned away to ash before our eyes.

  Breathing hard, Sasha turned to Stanislav. “Mikhail is dead. Surrender now, and perhaps I will be merciful.”

  Stanislav smiled, the gesture more frightening than friendly. “Mikhail talked too much anyway.”

  He lifted his arms, and the ground rumbled again, even louder than before.

  “Be prepared to run,” Sasha shouted, and we all kept our eyes on the ground, expecting the telltale cracks to appear.

  But Stanislav only laughed, the sound like rocks grating against each other, as he bizarrely stripped out of his coat and tunic. And then pieces of the ground ripped away and began flying toward him: clods of earth, rocks, and even pebbles. They coated him like a suit of armor, until he was no longer recognizable.

  He loomed over us, taller and wider than even the golems in the field had been. He looked invincible.

  “Stay back until we need you,” Sasha told me, and I nodded reluctantly. I’d never wished for skill in battle, but I did now.

  Swords bounced off Stanislav’s body with earsplitting twangs; the earthen rock he’d covered himself with was harder than steel. Even Boris’s superior strength was no match.

  “My turn,” Stanislav said, and it was like a mountain speaking—deep and rumbly and loud.

  He swept his arm out, simultaneously stomping hard with his left foot, and knocked the heads of six men. The force crushed their skulls, but before the rest of us could react, the ground shuddered so violently, we lost our footing. Sasha recovered first and blazed brightly as he ran at Stanislav. He was aided by Boris and Ivan, who fought with swords as both their abilities seemed useless against Stanislav.

  More of Sasha’s men recovered and joined the fight—another six bogatyri—and swords rang out as they tried in vain to weaken Stanislav’s armor.

  Sasha’s fire burned so hot that the other men had to step back, and we watched hopefully as the earthen stone armor seemed to melt, but then it hardened again, seemingly more impenetrable than before. I would have to try—I couldn’t stand by and obey orders while everyone risked their lives.

  I reached for that power, like dipping a bucket into an overflowing well, and thought of nothing but freezing Stanislav—of stopping him, any way I could. The cold fire shot toward him, silvery and blue, coated him in a layer of frost, and nothing more.

  He laughed again, the sound reverberating through me, and then he attacked the men in a flurry of powerful blows of his fists. He killed the bogatyri easily. Sasha tried to shield Ivan and Boris, but Stanislav was impossibly fast despite his size. He dodged Sasha and struck them down with blows that left them cracked open, red and bleeding on the snow-kissed ground.

  I cried out in horror as pain rippled through me, thinking of Ivan, thinking of Vera, as Sasha’s flames grew exponentially hotter. He was like a blazing inferno, like the depths of hell, and his sword was a blur as he matched Stanislav blow for blow.

  Sasha might fall. The insidious thought passed through my mind, ripping out my heart. I had once thought him a cruel monster, but here was the real monster right before my eyes. And he stood the best chance of winning.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  I’d let too much of my power flow to the storm above us, and though it howled and gusted with snow and pieces of ice, it was nothing to a man coated in earth and stone. I thought of Winter, who could create an entire palace from ice. Whose briefest touch could freeze an entire lake.

  Doubt tried to whisper in my mind, but I shoved it away. I’d already failed Ivan and Boris and all the other men; I wouldn’t fail Sasha. The queen had said my power was like a storm, but the truth was the storm was me and I was the storm. I could command it.

  Return to me, I thought to the power churning in the storm above me.

  I spoke to it as I spoke to Elation, and I could feel a response, like hearing a distant voice in the wind. A whirlwind swirled around me then, faster and faster, until I was caught up in a storm of snow and ice. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even blink. I opened my mouth to scream, and suddenly, all that power flowed back into me, burning my lungs with ice.

  My heart beat stronger, and I breathed out the power of a winter storm.

  Sasha dodged Stanislav, but the edge of Stanislav’s fist hit Sasha’s shoulder, and the force was enough to knock Sasha to the ground.

  I took a step toward them, and the earth below me froze solid. And then another step, until I was racing along the ice I’d created, faster than I’d ever run before. Just as Stanislav bent to deliver the final blow to Sasha, I got there first, shielding Sasha with my arms spread wide.

  “Katya, no!” Sasha shouted as Stanislav delivered his blow.

  At the same time, I released my power.

  It exploded out toward Stanislav, freezing his body in the air as it blew him back against the steps of the palace. The earth and stone that had coated him burned in the cold fire, shattering like glass as he made contact with the unforgiving palace. Stripped of his armor, Stanislav was just a man again, but he tried to push himself up.

  The cold fire I’d unleashed continued to siphon my energy, creating another winter storm that whirled around me, gaining power as it froze the ground, the very air.

  I had to finish this.

  But just as I took another step, someone stepped out of the shadows of the palace. Kharan, her dark hair whipping around her face in the terrible wind I’d created, grabbed hold of Stanislav and slit his throat in one fast motion. He fell, blood spilling upon the steps, finally dead.

  It was over, but even as relief filled me, fear held me in its talons. The battle was over, the war won, but I couldn’t stop my power.

  The storm grew, snatching even the breath from my lungs, my vision darkening until I couldn’t see. Still, it pulled from me more of the energy that kept my heart beating.

  And then through the blinding wind and snow and ice, I saw red-and-gold flames.

  “Take my hand,” the prince shouted at me over the storm’s roaring winds. He was lit up like the sun, the heat from his blaze penetrating even the winter storm that surrounded me.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I shouted back. Whose power was stronger? What if mine consumed him, too?

  His silver eyes looked golden in the flames. “You won’t.” He stepped closer, and the wind from the storm that held me at its heart raged against his flames. Fire and
ice met, repelling each other like two opposing powers.

  I could feel the wintery power inside draining away the mortal part of me, and the edges of my vision darkened as my heart slowed. It would consume me, at least the part of me that had come from the hunter, and I didn’t know what would be left. Ice? I swayed on my feet, swept along by the force of the wind and snow and ice. Still, I wouldn’t reach for him.

  The prince pushed forward, step after step, until finally he grasped my arm. The cold inside me fought like a wild animal against the blaze of his heat, and for a moment, I thought it would destroy us both. But then, as surely as a fire can chase away the cold teeth of winter’s night, the prince’s fire made gains on the storm within me. His fire melted the snow and ice, the heat warming my body until slowly, there was no more ice that threatened to consume me.

  The wind died down at last, and my legs crumpled beneath me. Sasha caught me before I could fall to the ground, gathering me close to his chest.

  “It’s over,” Sasha said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant the storm he’d tamed within me, or the battle with Stanislav, or even the entire war. All were true.

  I met his gaze, the heat of him enveloping me, and my heart quickened. This time, I didn’t wait for him to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down until his lips met mine. The kiss was desperate, burning heat. It warmed my blood, even as cold tears of relief slipped down my cheeks.

  He brushed away my tears. “I thought I’d lost you to yourself.”

  I thought of the way my heart had slowed while the storm I’d created pulled away my energy. I shuddered. “You pulled me back from the brink.”

  “It would seem our powers were made for each other.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  WE WERE RELIEVED TO FIND THAT many of Sasha’s guardsmen had survived the battle against the Drevlians and Novgorodians, though the loss was still far too high. But against all odds, Ivan had not been killed . . . yet. I bent over him, examining his gaping wound, and called for the herbal poultice to pack it and keep his insides from spilling out.

  He was unconscious but still breathing shallowly, and I worked quickly, thinking of Vera should I fail. Beside him was Boris, who was beyond help, and Grigory, who had been killed by them before he could kill the prince with his treachery.

  As I heard Babushka’s voice in my head, telling me what I must do to save Ivan, I also thought of what Kharan had said: that I had healed her. More memories poured through me then—of times when Babushka had saved men who seemed past saving. When even ordinary herbs were enough to bring them back from the brink of death. I thought of how badly she’d been burned herself, yet she had survived long enough to speak to me, long enough to tell me where the journal was. And then I realized: she had the power to heal.

  And she was my grandmother by blood.

  I finished treating Ivan’s wound, and he was carried off to bed to be tended by Vera, but I knew that he would live. He might be scarred, but it would not cost him his life.

  Others, though, were not so fortunate.

  Sasha had lost more than half of his militia, and there were even losses of the king and queen’s men, though both the king and queen had survived with only scratches.

  Blood stained the snow surrounding the palace, and the brambles took many days to clear. The smoke from the fires after cutting them down and burning them stung our eyes for a week.

  I was given far too much attention for my so-called heroism, so I always deferred to Kharan, who’d delivered the final blow and ended the war.

  “I kept to the shadows,” she had said when I asked her how she’d come to be there at the perfect moment, “and I’d meant to get there far sooner than I did.” Her expression looked pained, and I knew she was thinking of Boris.

  “You cannot blame yourself for that,” I had said, and I tried to tell myself the same.

  “I was needed in the city—I helped many guardsmen stay alive, at least, and finally, I made it to the palace.”

  “I couldn’t have defeated him without you,” I had said, and meant it. My power had already begun to rage out of control by the time she’d appeared.

  I knew what I’d have to do, but I was delaying.

  Finally, after the city had been cleared of brambles, we were able to give Boris and the others royal funerals. Villagers came from the farthest reaches of the land to lament their deaths, and to thank them for their sacrifice. Sasha buried them all in the graveyard reserved for nobility.

  I’d relented and dressed in one of the gowns Sasha had gifted me with long ago, ice-blue and silver, studded with pearls all the way to the throat. It had a matching kokoshnik—a headdress heavy with pearls. And still with all this finery, I felt a cold wind blow from the north, calling me.

  When the funeral was over, Sasha linked his arm through mine. The tears were still caught in my throat. I had saved the prince and even Ivan but failed Boris.

  “He would be happy that you saved Kievan Rus’,” Sasha said, because he could read my moods easily now.

  I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice.

  He stopped and turned me toward him. “Stanislav killed him, not you. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” I said, because I did, but it didn’t mean I would stop blaming myself. Not yet.

  We walked toward the palace, and before we reached the steps, I halted. “Sasha, I think it’s finally time to talk about it. Now that the city is safe . . .”

  He cut me off with a kiss. “You want to leave? Where will you go?”

  North, I thought, but didn’t say.

  “I will marry you,” he said. “I want to marry you.”

  I smiled. “I cannot. Not yet.”

  “I love you more than I’ve loved anything in my life,” he said. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment you stood before me in the throne room.” He took my hand. “After all we’ve been through, you’re such a part of my life—a part of me—that I don’t think I can ever be without you.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, though it still felt like my heart was breaking.

  He stilled. “But it’s not enough?”

  “You’re the prince,” I said, expecting it to be explanation enough. I couldn’t ask him to come with me. I couldn’t ask him to leave his newly won throne.

  But then he pulled me into him and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe or think straight, and the icy cold of my skin melded with the heat of him, wrapping us in steam.

  “Where you go,” he said, “I will go.”

  And I thought of Winter and the hunter, and I knew I wouldn’t let that be our fate.

  Epilogue

  THE SUN HAD BARELY RISEN WHEN I rode Zonsara out of the royal palace and through the quiet city. I checked to be sure I had everything: bare essentials I’d need for travel. Since it was summer, I hadn’t had to pack heavily. Zonsara could easily subsist on the rich grasses, and I could forage in addition to the meals Elation would help me catch.

  The field where we’d defeated the earth elementals was finally clear of the fallen trees—which had been chopped up and distributed to the villages who’d lost everything in the hope that they could rebuild. But there were still horrible scars in the earth, scars to match the ones most of the princedom were recovering from.

  Though as the first buds of spring could follow even the worst winter, Kievan Rus’ would recover from the evil machinations of the former Drevlian and Novgorodian princes. New princes had been chosen, and they were eager to work with Sasha to repair the land. Already those who had been enslaved by the Drevlian and Novgorodians had been freed, and Sasha had commanded that all of his people be tracked down and liberated.

  I could no longer put off the journey I’d thought about since the moment Baba Yaga had shown me Winter’s ice palace.

  I headed north, in search of my mother.

  Just as I urged Zonsara into a brisk trot, I heard hoofbeats sound out behind me. I steeled myself, expecting to have to argue wi
th Sasha again, and I was surprised to see not just Sasha, but Kharan as well. Both dressed for travel.

  “You didn’t think we’d let you go alone, did you?” Sasha asked, a gleam in his eyes.

  “But you’re the prince,” I said, glancing back at the city. “How can I take you from your palace?”

  “The land is at peace, and now I am free to help the woman I love.”

  My heart beat faster, a great weight lifting from my shoulders, and I realized I desperately wanted them to come with me.

  “We were there when you first learned of Winter’s story,” Kharan said. “Don’t we deserve to find out how it ends?”

  I thought of that moment in Baba Yaga’s hut, both terrible and beautiful all at once. “Yes, of course you do.”

  Sasha had moved his horse closer to mine. “To the ends of the earth, remember?”

  I smiled as the sun broke free of the clouds and warmed our faces. He leaned closer, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. “I remember.”

  He kissed me, and in that kiss was the seal of a promise: I would never have to be alone again.

  Author’s Note

  When I was a little girl, I loved the Soviet-era cartoons that featured characters from Russian folklore: magic horses, the firebird, Peter and the Wolf. They were my first introduction to Slavic fairy tales, and I was transported by the characters, costumes, and beauty. I grew up reading about the dark stories of Baba Yaga and Vasilisa the Beautiful, Tsarevich Ivan, the Firebird, and the Gray Wolf. I loved how they were both frightening and beautiful, with characters both wise and foolish. As I delved into research of Slavic countries and Russia in particular, I wanted to find a time period that would lend itself to a fantasy world where Baba Yaga could exist alongside a girl with the power to harness winter itself.

  Through the White Wood is set during a little-known time in Russian history, in the eleventh century, when the country was young and ruled by a grand prince instead of a tsar. At the time, it was known as Kievan Rus’ and was made up of Slavic tribes from eastern Europe, first banded together by a Varangian—another name for a Viking—prince. I partially chose the time period for its proximity to the setting of Beyond a Darkened Shore, but also because the young Russian country was rife with conflict. This makes for a more interesting story.